


Underneath the Smiles

by Peps4lyfe



Series: When I Fall, Who Will Catch Me? [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Anxiety, Avengers Family, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Family, Identity Reveal, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Parent Tony Stark, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Post-Spider-Man: Homecoming, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Tony Stark, Slow Burn, Spider-Man: Homecoming Spoilers, Team as Family, mostly canon, protective may parker
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-13
Updated: 2018-04-04
Packaged: 2019-01-16 18:13:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 18
Words: 173,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12347925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Peps4lyfe/pseuds/Peps4lyfe
Summary: It’s been a couple months since the homecoming fiasco. Peter struggles through the rest of his sophomore year, filled with nightmares that won’t go away, anxiety attacks that hit him hard and managing an unexpected crush on Michelle Jones. Tony Stark is there day in and day out to help Peter through his hard times but as the year goes by, they realize Michelle doesn’t have it easy, either.





	1. Because He Has To

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! This story takes place a couple of months after Spider-Man: Homecoming. It explores a much darker side of Peter's life, including the effects that being Spider-Man has on a person, especially someone that is as young as Peter. Also, it takes a different look on Tony and Peter's relationship, and how Tony would react in sitatuions like this. I am by no means an expert on anxiety/PTSD so a lot of what I'm writing about is strictly based on research. 
> 
> While the story mostly focuses on Peter, this story also explores Michelle Jones and her family, in particular a theory I read online that her family was abusive. I have no first hand knowledge of how child abuse can affect someone so I'm purely going off research that I've done.
> 
> That being said, I hope you enjoy!

_“The price of greatness_

_is responsibility.”_

_~ Winston Churchill ~_

Chapter One: Because He Has To

The warning bell to get to first period went off alarmingly loud, loud enough that Peter Parker jumped up and accidentally hit his shoulder against his yellow, scrapped up, well-loved locker.  The sound of his shoulder hitting the locker let out an obnoxious _clunk!_ but fortunately the sophomore hall of Midtown School of Science and Technology was bustling with students trying to get to their respective classes, so no one turned to look at Peter.  Peter took a deep breathe, opened up his locker and took out his used chemistry and US History textbook that he needed for his first couple of periods.

Peter was pretty exhausted from his rounds last night.  After what happened with the Vulture at the beginning of the year (or really he should be saying Adrian Toomes, Liz’s dad), Peter has been trying to take things easy.  He wasn’t really interested in picking fights with big guys like the Vulture or anyone like him, but that doesn’t mean Peter won’t shy away from a fight.  He doesn’t push himself as much as he did at the beginning of the year, especially since he knew he doesn’t need to prove himself to Tony or Happy or the other Avengers, as dismantled and fractured as the Avengers were.  That being said, Peter lived in Queens, New York.  It wasn’t like crime doesn’t get committed in Queens, and there has to be someone there to help the little guy when no one else was looking out for him or her.

That was what Spider-Man was for.  Taking care of everyone else.  Peter liked to think of what he does as Spider-Man as doing something for the greater good, his own little way of giving back to the community.  Another part of Peter, one that was more realistic and honest, was that Peter really liked how he felt about himself when he put the suit on.  Spider-Man was inevitably the better version of Peter Parker.  Spider-Man was the guy who fought with Iron Man last year when Captain America was outside the law.  Spider-Man was the guy who fought off an illegal weapon’s dealer and stopped him from robbing the Avengers _themselves_.  Even though that happened in September and it was December now, the Spider-Man euphoria has yet to die in Peter’s neighborhood.

At least Peter can enjoy being Spider-Man.

Peter Parker was just this insecure kid who gets good grades, who doesn’t like to sit in class and who doesn’t see any joy in going to school every day.

Okay.  That was a pretty awful thing to say.  Peter has a good life and there was no reason for Peter to dislike the life that he has.  Still, he can’t shake this dark feeling he has every time he got up in the morning, put on his clothes, made a cup of coffee and forced himself to stay awake in school.  Peter doesn’t know what was wrong with him.

Despite being utterly lost in his thoughts, Peter’s instincts ensure that Flash Thompson, a dark-skinned, dark-haired and absolutely spoiled sophomore, doesn’t plow him over.  “Watch where you’re standing, _Penis Parker_ ,” Flash sneered, as he continued to stride toward his first period class.  As much as Peter doesn’t want to hate anyone and as much as Peter knew that he couldn’t ever use his powers against some ordinary guy, there were days in his life where Peter _really_ wanted to punch Flash.  Whether it was when Flash was just making jokes about Peter to his friends or when Flash would go racing down the parking lot and _barely_ stop in front of Peter.  The antagonizing (Peter didn’t like to say that Flash bullied him since Peter knew people had gone through worse) had been going on for years, probably since middle school.  Why Flash enjoyed picking on Peter so much, Peter would never know.  At the very least, Peter didn’t care that much anymore.

Peter let out a huge yawn as he closed his locker and started heading to his first class. Midtown was a pretty big school so trying to navigate the halls, especially when everyone is trying to get to their classes, was pretty difficult.  Peter ducked and dodged people running, throwing their hands around carelessly as they talked animatedly with each other about upcoming plans (besides hanging out with Ned Leeds or doing rounds, Peter didn’t really have a lot of those).  From what Peter is overhearing from the people behind him, there was supposed to be a big party going on at Thompson’s house.  Not a surprise.  Now that Liz was in Oregon, Flash was the go-to person to throw the major parties.  Peter hasn’t been to a party since the one he went to at Liz’s house.  Not really his scene.  Plus, the idea of willingly going to Flash’s house wasn’t something Peter was too interested in.

The conversation about the party faded into the back of Peter’s mind as he approached the door to his chemistry classroom.  It was a stingy little room that reminded Peter of a prison, pretty analogous to high school. The classroom had a distasteful, bleach-like scent (makes since given the subject that’s taught in the classroom) and was decorated very sparsely.  The only decorations were the pictures of famous scientists — Howard Stark and Bruce Banner included in this mix _—_ that lined the top of the whiteboards.  Peter went to take his seat near the back of the class.  The desks were nothing but large black tables with the lab for whatever they were doing that day already set up; stools for chairs fit snugly underneath each table.  

Peter went to take his seat near the back corner of the classroom.  Today’s lab was supposed to be more “fun and interactive”, according to teacher.  Peter thumbed through the lab manual sitting in front of him, absent-mindedly.  It wasn’t that Peter doesn’t like science.  Honestly, science was Peter’s favorite subject.  But ever since Spider-Man, Peter has been having a hard time sitting still in the classroom. 

Before class started, Ned Leeds, Peter’s best friend, went to sit down beside Peter.  His best friend takes a look at the lab manual and grins.  “Dude, look at the chemical combinations we’re mixing today!  This is so cool!”

Ned transferred to the Queens school district in seventh grade.  The two have been friends ever since Peter stopped Flash from dumping his lunch all over Ned.  They’ve been inseparable, someone to talk to during hard times, someone to study with, someone to laugh with.  Without Ned, Peter figured that he would have dropped out of high school, especially after everything that Peter has been going through.  Ned helped a lot when Ben passed in seventh grade, an unexpected, _awful_ thing that happened in Peter’s life. 

Ned was also one of the only people to know about Peter’s secret identity.  Peter wasn’t ever planning on telling Ned, especially because, though Peter loves his best friend, Ned sometimes has a hard time keeping a secret.  Nonetheless, Peter couldn’t be happier that he has someone besides Tony to talk about all the Spider-Man stuff.  Even then, Tony was more of Peter’s mentor, a person who Peter can turn to for advice, can call if Peter needs help, and will scold Peter when he tries to do something pretty dangerous.  Of course, Peter was and will always be thankful for what Tony Stark has done for him, but Peter wants that person with whom he can just _gush_ about his latest round or the criminal he just caught. 

That’s what Ned is for.

Peter nodded.  “Pretty exciting.  Better than doing the penny thing last time.” 

Ned dropped his backpack beside his desk and scooted in closer to Peter.  Peter already knew what Ned was going to ask before Ned even opened his mouth.  “So, how was your round last night?” Ned asked.  “I saw on the news that Spider-Man stopped an arsonist.”

Peter grinned.  “Yeah.  Last night was pretty crazy.”

“Did you at least get enough sleep?  And did you study for the Spanish quiz?” Ned asked.

“Yes, _May_ ,” Peter said, jokingly.  “I studied.  And I did my homework, and… well, I got a few hours of sleep.  Does that count for something?”

Ned frowned.  “Yeah, I guess.  Are you going on another round tonight?”

“Always am,” Peter said.  “I promised May I would get my homework done first.”

“Oh yeah,” Ned said.  “How’s everything going with May?”

Peter sighed.  “Better than how it started.”

That was true, at the very least.  Peter can still remember that day like it was yesterday.  He was trying the suit on, feeling really good about himself.  He turned down Tony’s offer to become an Avenger (Peter has his reasons _—_ he was still in school, there are other priorities.  That was a different conversation he had with Ned). Peter was lost in his own thoughts, completely unaware that a certain someone was standing by the doorway, watching in absolute disbelief as Peter took the mask off.  That person, May of course, was the very last person that Peter wanted to know about his secret identity. 

_“What the fu—”_ May screamed.  She didn’t yell at Peter often, especially not in the tone of voice that she had, so when Peter heard her, he was _terrified_.

He couldn’t get her to calm down for what felt like hours.  There was a lot of screaming (mostly May), a lot of begging (mostly on Peter’s part though) and then a lot of uncomfortable silence (mostly Tony).  That’s right.  Peter didn’t want to lie to May any more than he already has so he sold Tony out.  To say the very least, Tony was _very surprised_ when he got an angry phone call from May that quickly turned into what seemed like May trying to break the world record for how many insults and swear words can be thrown at one person over the span of a fifteen-minute phone call.  Tony drove over to Peter’s apartment almost immediately.  Another bad idea.  Still, the adults talked.  The adults came to a conclusion that all three could live with: Peter could stay Spider-Man but May _and_ Tony had to be informed every time Peter was putting the suit on.  Peter doesn’t need training wheels, and he didn’t need coddling from Tony either.

At the very least, Peter got to keep the suit, and that was surprising.

After Tony finished a long and painful conversation with May that made Peter squirm in the uncomfortable kitchen chair, Tony and Peter had a private conversation in his room.  Now that May wasn’t there to yell at Tony as well as keeping Tony from getting a single word in the conversation, it was Peter’s turn to get yelled at.  That’s something Peter doesn’t want to relive, doesn’t want to _think_ about for as long as he’s Spider-Man. 

“She’s okay with doing rounds tonight?” Ned asked.  His voice brought Peter back from his thoughts.

Peter shrugged.  “May is never okay with it, but she doesn’t argue, either.  As long as she knows what I’m doing.”

“Don’t you think it’s better this way?” Ned said, and Peter groaned.  Ned was Peter’s best friend, and Peter knew that Ned was just looking out for him.  Still, Peter doesn’t want to have this conversation every time Ned brings up May.  “You’re not going around behind her back.”

Peter nodded.  “I know.  I know.  I just — I feel guilty.  She’s up all night worried about me.  Before…” Peter stopped himself.  “It sucks, Ned.  I hate knowing I’m hurting her.”

“So, you would rather lie?”

“It’s easier that way,” Peter muttered.

“It’s been a couple of months,” Ned said.  “Things are bound to get better.”

Their teacher gets up from her desk to start that day’s lecture, and Peter can’t help but be relieved that that conversation can end.  Ned always has good points when they have this conversation.  _In the long run, the truth will be better than a lie._ That was one of Ned’s personal favorite lines to pull on Peter.  _Things are bound to get better_.  It didn’t for Liz. 

God, Peter still hated himself sometimes for what happened to Liz.  Peter was in a pretty difficult spot with that.  Adrian Toomes was guilty of producing illegal weapons, of robbing the DODC as well as attempting to rob _the Avengers_.  He was a criminal, and he was going to have to face the consequences of what he has been doing for the past seven years.  There was no hope for Adrian Toomes getting a not guilty verdict.  Piles and piles of evidence stacked against him.  Plenty of testimony.  He’s going to prison for a long time.

But Adrian Toomes was also a father, put out of a job by the Avengers and the Department of Damage Control while he was just trying to clean up Manhattan after the damage Loki’s done.  Criminality shouldn’t have been the option but Toomes was desperate. He had a wife and daughter who he loved and who needed him.  So, he did what he had to do… And now that Spider-Man got Toomes arrested, Liz and her mom were left to pick up the pieces.

God _. God…_ Peter misses Liz.  Not so much because Liz was his first crush, the first girl he felt something for, whether that was just a little sophomore kid having a crush on the _really gorgeous_ senior girl.  It was how happy Liz was all the time, no matter how many college applications she was juggling, no matter how many AP classes she was handling and no matter how stressful it was being the captain of the Decathlon team.  Every day at practice, Liz would walk in with a smile on her face, a smile that was so wide and effervescent it made Peter smile.  And then there was the homecoming dance.  And she looked _stunning_ in that pink dress, only Peter didn’t let himself tell her that, show her the attention she deserved because of Spider-Man.  

Peter will never be able to forget how sad she looked her last day of Midtown High School.  The way the tears rolled down her face as she said her last goodbye to Peter, as she walked through the halls one last time, glanced at the Decathlon trophies one last time.  Peter doesn’t love Liz, but Peter misses her.

He has been keeping in contact with Liz, trying to make amends with her, not just because Peter felt _guilty_ knowing that Liz lost her father because of Spider-Man.  To make up for all the times Peter didn’t come through for her.  He wants to make sure that he’s there for her now.  A month after Liz moved, Peter started calling her every Tuesday.  Their conversations started out awkward, but they’ve been lasting a little longer and a little longer and a little longer.  The conversations only last about fifteen minutes, but fifteen minutes were always enough for Peter to get Liz to laugh, to get a little bit of information out of her and her new life.  To make her feel a little less sad. 

She’s in Oregon now, supposed to be a way for her parents to protect her from how ugly the trial was supposed to get.  Her mom bought a little house in the suburbs about thirty minutes away from Portland.  It’s a nice two-story home.  Couple bedrooms.  Couple bathrooms.  A small little porch with an awning that means she can sit outside and do her homework, while it drizzles lightly.  It sounds cozy.  Supposedly, Liz was doing well at her new school.  She made a lot of friends, got into the colleges she wanted.  A part of Liz wanted to go to Empire State University, an Ivy league school pretty close to Midtown.  The other part of Liz doesn’t want to go anywhere near the home that would remind her of her incarcerated father.  Georgetown University and MIT were apparently high on the list.  Prestigious schools that Peter wouldn’t dream of being able to afford.

“Mr. Parker, are you still with us?” the teacher said.

Peter looked around the classroom. He realized that the class had already started going through the lab manual.  They answered the pre-lab questions and started to work through the questions and hypothesizes.  Peter’s paper, meanwhile, was still blank. 

“Oh… Right.  Sorry,” Peter said.

He shoved his hand into the depths of his backpack and pulled out a pencil.  Peter glanced down at the first page of his lab, feeling thoroughly exhausted just skimming through the first couple of words.  Dejected, Peter started trudging through the paper, going through the motions like usual.  When first period finished, Peter gathered up his belongings and went off to his second period class.  Followed by third period.  Followed by fourth.  It was pretty hard for Peter to keep his mind from drifting too much throughout the day.  He would sit in his chair every class, bouncing his legs up and down, looking around, through the windows.  Checking the door.  Obsessively almost. 

When the bell that dismisses students for the day went off, Peter eagerly threw his backpack around his shoulders and raced outside.  Being out in the open air was relaxing, cool air that hit the back of Peter’s clammy neck.  Peter threw on the inner layer of his winter jacket — he’s just never cold enough to wear the entirety of his heavy jacket, despite how freezing it can get in New York sometimes.  Peter quickly maneuvered his way out of the parking lot, glancing in Flash’s direction as Flash slid into his car. 

Peter chuckled as he thought of homecoming night.  So, Spider-Man may or may not have ruined the shiny silver convertible he borrowed from Flash.  After Peter told Tony that he accidentally ruined Flash’s dad’s car, Tony went ahead and bought the Thompson’s another one.  Same brand.  Same year.  Same color, even.

And Peter was still taking the bus home.

Speaking of which, Peter jay-walked (really sprinted) across the street to catch the bus before it took off without him.  He contemplated taking one of the seats but then an older man carrying a briefcase and looking absolutely exhausted got on as well so Peter let him take the seat.  Fortunately, there was still an open spot for Peter to stand near the back.  The bus ride was short and it dropped him off right in front of the deli that Peter loved so much.  He got the same order.  Number Five. 

“Hey, Mr. Delmar,” Peter said as he put the gummy bears and pack of gum onto the cash register as well.  “How are you doing?”

Mr. Delmar, an older man with a thick black and white beard, stood before Peter, ringing up his order.  This deli place has been around for as long as Peter can remember.  When Peter was really young, back when Ben was still alive and well, Ben would take Peter to this deli place after school.  “ _Best sandwich place in Queens,”_ Ben would always say as he would take a huge bite out of the number seven, his favorite order.  Ben was gone now, but this place made Queens feel like home. 

“Good.  Customers are still coming in, even after what happened,” Mr. Delmar said.  He gestured toward the walls where Peter could clearly see the marks left from the fight across the street.  You know.  The fight with Spider-Man and those ATM robbers that started this mess. 

“You’ll never lose me as a customer,” Peter promised. 

“You are half my customers,” Mr. Delmar said with a laugh.  “At the very least, Spider-Man has been attracting some good business.”

“How so?” Peter asked, politely, even though he already knew the answer.

Peter felt pretty bad about how much business Mr. Delmar lost while trying to rebuild his deli after the fight so the masked vigilante showed up throughout the night, cleaning up his place, helping to remove some the scrapped rubble after the fight.  Peter doesn’t quite have the capability to rebuild the entire deli but Peter did what he could.  Once the media got hold of what Spider-Man was doing, customers from around New York started showing up to try and see him.

“Everyone wants to know who this Spider-Man guy really is,” Mr. Delmar said.

Just out of curiosity, Peter asked, “And who do you think this Spider-Man guy is?”

Mr. Delmar shrugged.  “I don’t really care.  There’s a reason why this Spider-Man wears a mask.  I guess as long as he—”

“Or she,” Peter said.

“Or she,” Mr. Delmar added, “keeps New York safe, I say just let them be.  We’ll figure out who this person is when the time is right.”

_Don’t expect that to be soon_ , Peter thought to himself.

“Thanks for the sandwich,” Peter said.  He threw the gummy bears into the bottom of his backpack, wrapped the sandwich up tight and then started jogging in the direction of his apartment. 

He thought the entire way there about what Mr. Delmar said.  About how Spider-Man is the hero of New York.  Hearing people say that about him always made him smile.  The appreciation for what Peter — or really Spider-Man — did was always nice to hear.  There were times, especially more recently, that Peter sometimes feels like he _doesn’t_ deserve that appreciation, though.  The bigger the scale of the opponent Spider-Man faced, the worse the collateral damage.  Mr. Delmar’s deli was nothing.  The fight with the Vulture that went all the way to Coney Island.  _That_ was bad.  Trying to get past DODC was a mess.  Not to mention the Sokovia Accords.

Tony only told Peter a little bit about the Sokovia Accords last year.  That it was a United Nations approved document.  That the purpose of the document wasn’t to limit the Avengers or to even politicize what they’re doing.  It was to make sure that the Avengers get into the good graces of the people.  That the Avengers aren’t just sending crazy amounts of fire power with nothing to keep them in check or with _no one_ to take care of evacuation when the Avengers need to focus on getting the criminal in hand.  What Tony didn’t mention was the Raft prison, not that Peter knew a lot about that — or was supposed to know a lot about that.  The fact that Peter wasn’t just trying to settle an argument between Tony and Cap and nab the guy who bombed the UN.  It was a surprise to Peter when he stood on the side as Everett Ross’s men went after Wanda Maximoff, Clint Barton, Sam Wilson and (god, what was his name?) Scott something. 

_“What’s going to happen to them?”_ Peter remembered asking.  The four remainders of Team Cap were being chained together and shoved into a helicopter violently. 

“ _They’re out of our hands_ ,” Tony said back.  “ _It’s best if you don’t worry about them_.”

Of course, that was impossible not to think what was happening to them.  And Peter wasn’t stupid, nor was he bad at hacking into things.  Learning about the Raft Prison left him shocked _and_ worried that he was going to end up there.  All criminals apprehended under the Sokovia Accords would end up at a floating prison, including former Avengers.  Team Cap, now at large after Captain America broke them out, still has their own cells waiting for them.

After what happened at Coney Island, it was a real shock to Everett Ross to find out that Spider-Man happened to know Iron Man.  Just like the Raft, Tony didn’t mention what would happen if the government found out about Spider-Man.  Peter remembered being pulled out of school by May and they spent the entire day at the new Avengers Compound sitting in Tony’s office as he went back and forth with Ross.  There was a lot of yelling.  A lot of threatening.  A lot of May pacing back and forth as she tried to figure out what she’s going to say to Tony once he gets off the phone. 

Peter _did_ have to sign the Accords, but not the same way that Tony, Vision or the other team Iron-Man members did.  He wasn’t an official Avenger so he doesn’t have to operate on the same rules as the Accords.  There were technicalities, though.  If Spider-Man ever paired up with someone operating under the Accords, Spider-Man would have to follow the same rules.  There were jurisdiction issues, as well.  Spider-Man could operate legally in the United States but anything international that could turn into a serious political mess, meant that Spider-Man was under Accords rules.  Peter could live with these rules for now. 

Peter’s phone went off.  He fumbled with his sandwich a little bit as he reached to take out his cell phone.  On it was a message from May.  _< <Are you almost home?_>> In the eyes of most parents, it would look like she was just trying to make sure that Peter was okay.  In the eyes of Peter, however, he knew that this was code for May making sure that Peter wasn’t running off as Spider-Man right now when that wasn’t the deal. 

He types up a quick response: _< <Yes.  Almost home :)>>_

Peter’s neighborhood was pretty safe all things considered.  It was the kind of neighborhood where Peter knew practically everyone in the apartment, as well as some of the people in the complex next to his.  It was a lively neighborhood too, cars bustling up and down the road, people constantly hurrying around the sidewalk, sometimes a street performer or two on the corner of the intersection.  On the upside, it makes Peter feel like energy and life is constant, no matter how tired he gets.  On the downside, trying to sneak out of his apartment in the suit was pretty difficult.  Sometimes it requires sneaking around the back or even traveling by rooftop so that no one of the ground level can see where Spider-Man went after his rounds.

The apartment itself, an old brick building that sat in front of a busy little intersection, has been Peter’s home ever since Peter moved in with Ben and May.  He buzzed himself in briskly before taking the stairs three at time to his and May’s apartment.  His apartment was a quaint little place, well-loved considering how many years Peter and May have lived there.  A kitchen table that had pen and pencil markings from Peter doing his homework and May doing the bills.  Green paint from when Uncle Ben thought it would be a fun project for him and Peter to redo the kitchen.  The nicest furniture being the leather couches in the living room paired with a glass coffee table.  The living room was May’s favorite.  Flowers matched the color themes.  Pillows matched the flowers.

“May?!” Peter yelled.  He hung his backpack onto the coatrack by the front door and kicked his sneakers off.

“There you are,” May said.  She walked out from the hallway that connected to her bedroom. 

May Parker was in her late forties.  She used to work part time at the local bank while Ben was still alive but after he passed and she needed to come up with enough money for her and a growing teenager, May went back to juggling a full-time job and being a full-time mom.  On Mondays like today, May only had to work a couple of hours in the morning.  She spent the rest of the day cleaning up the apartment, going grocery shopping, making sure that this place stayed together — adult things that Peter didn’t always understand but was always grateful she was doing. She wore a pair of light wash boyfriend jeans and an old white t-shirt, brown hair pulled into a sloppy ponytail and her glasses still on.  May was beautiful, flushed skin and a wide smile every time Peter walked in the door (even if it was past curfew). 

May threw a couple of envelopes and a pen onto the kitchen table.  “How was school?”

Peter shrugged. “Long.  How was work?”

“Long.  You hungry?”

“Always am,” Peter said.  He went to sit at the kitchen table while May rummaged through the refrigerator. 

“Alright.  Let’s see what we have,” May said.  “Leftover pizza from yesterday.  Fruit.  I can make you a salad.”

“Can I have all three?” Peter asked.

May smiled.  She got the ingredients out and started working.  “Teenage boys.”

“I think it’s more of the Spider-Man in me,” Peter said, chuckling.

“Do you have a lot of homework?”

Peter shrugged.  “Sort of.”

“How did your Spanish quiz go today?” She asked. 

“Alright.  I mean, I studied so…” Peter said.

May just finished putting the pizza on a cookie tray and turning the oven on.  She poured both herself and Peter a glass of ice water before going to sit down at the kitchen table.  Judging by May’s face, Peter knew what she was going to ask; this was how their conversations went everyday outside of school.  _Are you going out tonight?_ She would ask.

“Are you going out tonight?” May asked.

Peter grimaced. “Probably.  There’s always going to be another bad guy, May.”

She sighed.  “I know.  You just be careful alright.”  She pressed a kiss on Peter’s forehead before going back to finishing up his midday meal.  May doesn’t say another word as she finished prepping Peter’s food.  Peter tried to get a good read on her face, tried to figure out exactly how she felt.  As usual, May’s expression was blank.  Peter _knew_ she was worried but a part of Peter also knew she respected and understood why he put the suit on.

He owed it to New York.  It was his job. 

Peter and May spent the rest of the afternoon together.  She sat at the kitchen table doing bills for a little bit, got through some of her paperwork and then went to go do the dishes.  Peter, meanwhile, kept himself busy with his homework.  It was what May wanted and it was the only way she wouldn’t ground him for running off at odd hours of the night.  First chemistry.  History.  Trigonometry.  Mindless work that Peter wasn’t interested in. 

Then came the nap.  Another stipulation for Peter to be Spider-Man.  His sleep and his health came first, even though that wasn’t always how Peter saw it.  Hours passed slowly and the darker it got outside, the more and more excited and anxious and eager Peter got to put the suit on.  Peter woke up from his nap at 8:00 that night and he eagerly kicked the blanket May threw over him off.  Peter took special care to refold the blanket and set it on the corner of the couch.  Peter can hear the TV in May’s bedroom going off so he quietly heads to his room to change into the suit.  He tried his hardest to be quiet — May already knew when he was planning to leave and being able to eliminate another awkward conversation was just easier for the two of them.

The lights stayed off as a preventative measure while he pulled off his sweatshirt and jeans he was wearing.  He tumbled around his room in the dark as he yanked the suit out of its hidden spot in the ceiling.  Now that he has gotten more used to putting on the suit briskly, Peter stepped into his suit and pulled the arms through the holes in matter of seconds.  He pressed the button in the center and the spandex material glued itself onto his appendages.  Peter paused to look at the mask for a second, ready to take on his alter ego. 

When Peter was Spider-Man, Peter didn’t feel like himself.  Peter felt _better_ than himself, _improved_.  _Stronger_.  All the baggage that came with being some awkward kid in high school went away.  He wasn’t a loser.  He was _Spider-Man_ , and it felt _great_ to be able to say that.

_Focus_ , Peter told himself as he pulled the mask over his head.  The eye slits readjust themselves, opening a little wider and the blue lights activating.

“Hello Peter,” Karen said.  Karen was the AI Tony put into Peter’s suit.  She has always been helpful to Peter, whether Peter needed someone to activate a different type of webbing in a split of second or if Peter was lost and needed directions.  Or if Peter just needed someone to talk to.  Karen was there for him.  “Ready to do another round?”

“Yeah,” Peter said.  “Just let me get out of here.”

Peter went to open the window and immediately was greeted with a harsh, _freezing_ gust of wind.  Shivering, Peter checked out the sidewalks and streets near his apartment.  There were a couple of people driving and some of the lights were on in the street across from him.  Didn’t matter.  Peter has done this hundreds of times and he was positive that he had never been caught.  Peter stepped onto the sill of his window before launching a web onto the ledge of the roof of the building across from him.  He kicked off the side of his building, swung around and comfortably caught his balance on this new building.

“Alright, Karen.  What does the police scanner say?” Peter asked.

Karen paused for a second before she said, “There’s a reported theft at the local mall down the street.  And someone called in a domestic violence a couple streets down from you.”

“And cops are closer to which one?” Peter asked.

“The reported theft,” Karen answered.

Peter scoffed.  “Typical.  How do I get to the domestic violence call?” 

“Get to 8th Street and its on your left,” Karen said.

“Spider-Man to the rescue…” Peter said to himself.

Peter has been getting better at the whole traveling from place to place without using just running or without scaling the sides of building.  He found street lamps, balconies that he can swing from.  As he flew through the street, Peter arched his back, wrapping his fingers around the web to keep himself from falling off.  The way that Peter gracefully (at the very least, he hasn’t hit anything) traveled through the air always reminded him of flying.  It felt like absolute freedom, a place where Peter could just be there with these thoughts.

At least, that’s how Peter used to feel.

Now, when Peter traveled through the air, Peter was always checking the streets around him, listening sharply to make sure that he wouldn’t miss anything.  Peter even felt vulnerable at times as he flew through the air.  Like the time he was trying to get back to the party and then Adrian Toomes got hold of him.  Like when Peter was dropped into the lake and nearly drowned.  That night —

“Peter, you’re about to miss 8th street,” Karen said.

Peter jerked.  Sure enough, he was just about to soar past 8th and go straight to 9th. Peter let go of the web right before he could soar any further.  He flipped onto the ground, hitting the landing perfectly.  Peter landed in the alleyway.  Silently.  His heart was starting to race the way it always did before he would prepare to get himself involved in a fight.  While Peter would get excited to put the suit on in his bedroom, Peter would start to feel terrified when he was ready to face an actual threat.

“O—okay, okay, man, let’s just play it cool,” someone said.  It was a guy judging by how deep the voice was, but Peter could tell this guy was terrified.  His voice was shaking and he was stuttering.

Peter went to go stand beside a dumpster to quickly assess the situation.

“Give me the money and you won’t get shot,” another person growled.  A mugging.  Peter has handled plenty of this.  There was almost always a weapon involved.  Sometimes a knife but more often it was a gun.  Before Peter attacked the perp, he went through what he was planning on doing: surprise the perp, disarm him, web him up.  Simple.  Routine.

The victim, a guy probably no older than twenty-five, shoved his hand into the depths of his pockets and started fumbling with his wallet. “H—here.”

Peter leapt forward before the perp can take the wallet.  He got a running start and kicked the gun out of the mugger’s hand. The mugger, pretty small compared to the other perps Peter had faced, was taken by surprise.  The gun flew across the alleyway, hitting one of the dumpsters with a thud.  “Hate to interrupt,” Peter said.  He grabbed hold of the mugger and threw the guy forward.  “Grenade web!” Peter didn’t have to wait for more than half a second.  The sticky matter shot out from Peter’s suit, latching the mugger to the side of the suit.  The mugger struggled against the web that was keeping him stuck to the wall.  “Dude, I wouldn’t try fighting.  You won’t be able to get free from that.” Peter looked over at the victim.  “The cops are already on their way.  You should just stay put — but maybe not too close to that guy.”

“Uh…” the victim stammered. 

“What’s your name?” Peter asked.

“Uh, Zach,” the guy said.  “Thanks Spider-Man.”

“You know, you should really stop shortcuts through alleyways,” Peter warned.  “Just go wait by the sidewalk.  The cops should be here pretty soon.”

“How — how do I thank you?” Zach asked.

Peter shrugged.  He was already starting to walk away.  “No need.  Stay safe, buddy.”  Peter flung a web to the rooftop of the nearest building, gave this Zach one more wave and then propelled himself to the rooftop.  Peter landed on the roof swiftly.  “That went well, didn’t it Karen?”

“Yes.  Good job, Mr. Parker,” Karen contemplated. 

Peter glanced over the side of the rooftop to watch the victim, Zach, standing a few yards away under a streetlamp on the phone.  “Do you think he’s calling his parents?  Or a girlfriend?”

“I’m not sure.  I could activate enhanced reconnaissance mode if you would like.”

Peter shook his head.  “No, no.  I don’t want to intrude on his conversation.”

“Do you wish you had a girlfriend?” Karen asked.

Peter went to sit down on the ledge of the rooftop.  He took a couple deep breaths while he waited for his heartrate to even out.  “I don’t know,” Peter said.  “I mean, I’m only a sophomore in high school.  It’s not like relationships in high school mean a lot.”

“Do you miss Liz?” Karen asked.

“I knew it was a mistake to tell you about Liz,” Peter muttered. “I just feel bad that she’s in Oregon without her dad, who I know loved her, despite everything that he did.  I think it’s just kind of—”

The conversation ended with the sound of tires squealing against the road.  Horns blasted in the distance and Peter could faintly hear the echoing sounds of what he thought were gunshots going off.  Peter jumped up from the ledge of the rooftop, head tingling.  Another effect of the spider-senses that he has been slowly starting to develop over the past couple of months.  The spider-senses really started to develop after May found out that Peter was Spider-Man.  The first time these tingling sensations went off, it felt like electricity was shooting up the back of Peter’s spine to the bottom of his head.  Scared the living hell out of Peter the first time it happened.  The sensation reminded him of the weapons Adrian Toomes used on Peter while they were fighting.  Peter was walking to Midtown when he thought he was about to have to fight some bad guy, only it turned out to be Flash and his car speeding too close to Peter. The last couple of months Peter has managed to hone the spider-senses in so that it goes off when there’s a more legitimate threat. 

Like now.

“What’s happening, Karen?” Peter said.

“It’s off Hawthorne Avenue,” Karen said.  “Reported armed robbery turned into a car chase.  One hostage: the bank manager.  The criminals are about fifty seconds away from this road.”

“Are the police in pursuit?”

“Yes.  Two squad cars are following the bank robbers, but they’re backing off.  The hostage situation is making this much more difficult,” Karen said.

Peter sighed.  “Figured.”

He waited for a long second as he saw a black SUV go speeding down the road, just a couple seconds away from where Peter is perched on the rooftop.  The sirens are starting to fade in the background; red and blue flashing lights are growing more and more distant the farther the SUV car moves.  Peter gave himself one moment to draw in a huge breath of air before taking a running start off the ledge.  He free fell until he hit the top of the SUV with the car.  Shocked, the driver swerved a little bit.  The bad guy in the passenger seat stuck his head out of the window and looked around for a couple of seconds.  Peter stayed low to the rooftop. 

“Activate enhanced reconnaissance mode,” Peter whispered.

“On it, Peter,” Karen said.

There was a long pause, a little bit of static and then— “turn to get to the exit?” one of the bad guys said in a growling, angry voice.

“Coming up.  Look, it’s not my fault we had to take a detour.  The cops—”

“I don’t want to hear it!  You screwed up!  You’re lucky that Spider-Man isn’t here,” the first said.  Peter laughed.  He couldn’t help himself.  “What the hell was that?” the same guy said.  “It sounded like someone was laughing.”

_Whoops_ , Peter thought to himself.  He hooked a web onto one of the crossbars and flung himself into the back window.  His feet broke the window violently.  It shattered with a deafening _CRACK!_   The back seats were put down so Peter rolled across the car and hit the other door.  Glass went flying, showering the perp in the passenger seat.  The hostage, a guy in his late fifties cowering in corner of the SUV, shrieked in terror while the two criminals yelled out in shock.  The guy sitting in the passenger seat yelled out, scrambling for the gun that Peter could see was resting in the cup holder.  Meanwhile, the driver panicked, swerving and nearly clipping one of the street signs at the intersection. As the car wailed at the wild driving, Peter was almost thrown to the other side of the car.

“What the hell?!” the driver yelled.

“So, heard you’re knocking off some local banks!” Peter said.  He turned to look at the perp reaching for the gun.  “No, no.  I’ll take that.”  Peter flung one string of web, which secured itself around the gun before disarming the assailant.  The guy let out a gurgled grunt as Peter’s unchecked strength accidentally made the guy nearly flip out of his seat.  Peter seized the opportunity to kick the guy in the passenger seat hard enough to nearly knock him unconscious.  Only, Peter kicked the perp a little bit harder than expected.  He crashed into the side of the passenger door, which shook against the blow.  The door crunched and the man nearly flew outside.

“Shit!” Peter yelled.

Without thinking, Peter lunged forward, nearly flying out of the car himself.  Peter caught the perp, who’s hair on the top of his head was just barely grazing the road that was zooming past them.  “You’re very lucky you didn’t become—”

Peter stopped dead in his sentence.  The thing about the spider-senses, Peter figured out, was that the more imminent the threat, the more the spider-senses make his body freak out.  Beside the near burning sensation from the electric shock at the back of his skull, his muscles move practically involuntarily.  Peter throws himself against the dashboard just as the sound of a gun goes off. Only, Peter wasn’t fast enough…  Searing pain, the kind that made Peter feel like he was going to pass out, erupts in his side.  Using one arm, Peter threw the perp in the passenger seat out of the car and toward the side of a building they were passing; before the perp could land with a thud, Peter webbed him up.

“What the—” Peter managed.  He turned to assess the damage: the side of his chest was gushing blood.  _A lot_ of blood.  Enough to make Peter’s head spin just looking at how blood-soaked his suit was becoming.  “Oh god, oh—” Peter turned to look at the driver, who was still holding the gun with a shaky hand.  The driver shifted only barely before Peter got a web onto the driver’s shoulders and thrust his face into the wheel, rendering him unconscious. 

“Peter, your vitals seem to be weakening.  Would you like for me to call the local hospital?!”

“No — no!” Peter yelled.  He lunged for the wheel to stop the car from hitting a stop sign.  Peter has been practicing driving with Aunt May since homecoming so he knows the basics of operating a vehicle.  Peter hit the brakes and threw the car in park.  The pain in his side was overbearing, excruciating, almost as bad as when the building was on top of him… Peter can feel the bile rising in the back of his throat, the dizziness threatening to pull him under. 

Peter turned to the hostage still curled up in the back of the car.  “Call — call the police…” Peter managed.  “They shouldn’t be too far from here.”

“Do you need to get medical attention?  Should I call for paramedics?” the hostage managed.

Peter shook his head.  “I’ll — I’ll be okay.  I’ve gotta—”

“Peter, perhaps that man is correct.  Mr. Stark is on speed dial,” Karen suggested.

The sheer thought of calling Tony right now made Peter’s heart pound just as much as his head was pounding right now.  “ _No!”_ Peter exclaimed.  “It’s nothing…”  Peter kicked the door to the car wide open and he dropped out of the vehicle, accidentally rolling over the driver.  As his feet hit the ground, Peter blinks out tears.  “Get me home, Karen.”

Though Karen was just an AI and was supposed to do whatever Peter requested without a hitch, she only reluctantly gave Peter the fastest and most discrete way of getting back to his apartment.  The entire way there she kept pressuring Peter to go to the hospital or call Tony or at the very least tell May.  None of those ideas sounded enticing to Peter.  Going to the hospital would mean potentially comprising Peter’s identity.  Peter didn’t want to worry Tony, especially if this just happened to be a little graze.  And if Peter told May?  He didn’t even want to _think_ about how she was going to react if she found out what was happening. 

“I’ll see how bad it is first,” Peter promised Karen.  

He was right around the corner of his apartment.  There were even less people than when he left but that still didn’t mean he could just waltz through the front door of his complex.  Peter forced his way up the side of the apartment building to where his bedroom window was.  He only used one hand to maneuver himself up the wall, using the other to clutch his bloody side.  Peter always left his window open a crack to make it easier to get into his room at a night.  That made it a hundred times easier right now.

“Ah, god,” Peter groaned.

He staggered into his bedroom, taking care to not land on the floor of his bedroom too loudly; the last thing he wanted to do was to wake up May.  Peter kept his hand pressed against his left side.  One of Peter’s old t-shirts was lying on his desk chair.  Peter snagged the shirt off the chair, pressed it against the wound and groaned.  He pulled the door open a smudge and looked down the hallway.  May’s door was closed, but he could still see the light on, which means that Peter would have to be extra quiet.  He looked around his bedroom, grabbed hold of a spare change of clothes and, instead of going to bathroom first, went to the kitchen.  Extra cautious not to get blood _anywhere_ on the carpet in the living room, Peter found May’s little sewing kit in one of the drawers of the cabinet by the TV.  With his supplies, Peter went to the bathroom and locked the door behind him. 

First thing was to get the suit off and get a good look at what he’s dealing with.  Peter hit the button in the center of his suit and the spandex material slackened against Peter’s body.  Carefully, he took the mask off first, and Peter cringed just at the sight of his face.  There was almost no color left in his tear-stained face.  Peter pushed his bloody fingers through the brown mess of hair on top of his head before turning to yank the suit off of him.  As it falls, Peter immediately grabbed for the shirt he was using as a towel and pressed it against his wound again.  A second passed before Peter got the courage to look at the wound again. 

Peter was by no means a doctor so his self-diagnosis was probably very wrong.  Still, a part of him knew that this was just a flesh-wound. It was a terrible looking mess of blood on the side of his stomach but there was no place where the bullet could have entered.  The fact that Peter thought it was just a graze gave him a little bit of self-assurance.  Sewing this up properly coupled with Peter’s enhanced healing abilities could potentially mean that this would be healed in a couple of days — _without_ serious medical attention and without the need to tell May or Tony.  Peter wasn’t completely clueless when it came to sewing things up.  After all, Peter did make his original Spider-Man suit.  But this was _sewing_ _skin._ His own skin.

“Okay, okay, Parker.  You can do this,” he whispered, though he felt a little corny giving himself a pep talk.  Peter got an old towel from a bathroom closet and soaked it with water to clean the wound.  It stung like a bitch when he tried to clean himself up but he kept going.  Dabbed at the wound a couple of times before throwing the towel to the ground, sterilized the utensils he was using and then threaded the needle.  Peter glared down at the needle before, with absolutely no hesitation, started stitching himself up.  Each time Peter would thread the needle through his side, he thought he was going to pass out.  It was agonizing work — and sloppy, too.  Still, it got the job done and effectively stopped the bleeding.  When it was finished, his face was sweaty.  He felt dehydrated and sick.

For a second, Peter thought about taking a shower, only he didn’t think that would have been a great idea after what he just did.  Peter dug through the medicine cabinet before he found some ibuprofen.  He popped a couple in his mouth and then went to clean up.  He changed into the clean clothes he got before gathering up all the blood-stained clothes and towels and went to do a load of laundry.  Peter poured an excessive amount of detergent, cranked the setting up to what it needed to be in order to get blood stains out before nearly collapsing in his bed.  Given how thoroughly drained Peter felt, he was asleep in a matter of seconds.

* * *

Peter was jolted awake by the sound of pounding on his doorway.  “Peter!  Peter!”  He recognized the voice to be May, of course.  She sounded worried and angry all at the same time.  It wasn’t like how May was feeling wasn’t unjustified, however, because when Peter checked the clock, he realized he overslept.  He was well on his way to missing all of first period.  Groaning, Peter lifted his shirt up a little to examine the stitching.  It wasn’t bad work, especially now that he could see it in natural light.  It was uneven work, clearly not in a straight line but the stitches didn’t tear and that was what was important.  “The one morning I decide not to wake you up and you’re late!”

Peter groaned.  “I’m coming…” he managed.  He tried rolling out of bed, only it felt like every muscle was screaming as he tried to move.  “Shit.”  Peter gathered enough strength to force himself out of bed.  “I’m sorry.  Last night was kind of crazy,” he said as he opened the door.

May looked like she was about to scream until she caught a good look and _whiff_ — Peter really regretted not trying to take a shower last night — of her nephew.  “You look like shit.”

“Thanks May,” Peter said.

“How late were you out last night?” she asked.

Peter rolled his eyes.  “Last night was just a little more exciting than most other nights.  I came back and crashed.”

May narrowed her eyes.  “Fine.  Go take a shower.  I’ll drive you to class. _But hurry!”_

Peter involuntarily let out a sigh of relief as he walked back into his bedroom and gathered up his stuff.  Some comfortable pants and a baggy sweatshirt just so that Peter wouldn’t feel like he was going suffocate his chest.  Peter had to get stitches after what happened with Adrian Toomes, so he knew that his enhanced healing abilities meant it would be safe for him to shower just eight hours after getting stitches.  He hurried to the bathroom, trying hard not to make eye contact with May, who was still watching him as he walked out of his room.  Once inside, Peter locked the door.  He only briefly glanced at the mirror as he pulled his clothes off to go into the shower.  Nearly black bruises were painted across his chest.  Purple bags were under his eyes, even though he got more sleep last night than he has had in a few weeks.  Sighing, Peter stepped into the tepid shower.  He only used his arm on the good side of his body to scrub out the sweat and blood caked in his hair to keep himself from tearing the stitches. 

The shower felt great given how weak his muscles felt and he almost tempted just to stay under the hot spray.  Only, he _knew_ he had to get to class.  Peter dried off and got dressed quickly before hurrying to the kitchen where May greeted with a plate of eggs and pancakes.  He practically swallowed his food whole.

“Chew your food like a normal kid, Peter,” May said, rolling her eyes.

“Don’t wanna be late,” Peter said in between gulping his glass of water.

“Too late,” she said.

“Don’t want to be any later than I already am,” Peter corrected.

When he was finished with breakfast, he went back to his room where he shoved his things into his backpack in a rush, nearly knocking over his lamp.  Before leaving his room, he paused.  A headache was starting to set in, a painful one in his temples.  Peter searched for the bottle of aspirin he always kept in his room and swallowed a couple. 

“You’re fine, Parker,” he told himself before going to meet May in the kitchen.  He kept repeating that to himself the entire time he was in the car on the way to school.  The entire time he walked through the empty hallways as he went to his second period class. 

Peter tried to act nonchalant as he snuck into class, only his teacher stopped his lecture to turn to glare at Peter. “Mr. Parker, so glad you could join us.  _Late_.  Don’t worry.  You can make up for it with detention today during lunch.”

“Sorry,” Peter muttered as he made his way to his desk.  Peter rested his hands on his forehead.

Ned, who sat right next to Peter leaned over and whispered, “Dude, you alright?”

Peter didn’t answer at first.  What Peter really wanted to do right now was to go to bed, sleep all day, maybe watch some cartoons.  He didn’t want to be at school right now.  He didn’t want to go to Decathlon practice that he knew was tonight.  And he certainly didn’t want to get dressed as Spider-Man after just getting shot last night.

Only, Peter knew he couldn’t _not_ do any of his responsibilities.

“Yeah.  Yeah, I’m okay,” Peter said, even though he isn’t.  Even though his feels like his insides were being ripped to pieces.  Even though his head was ringing from a god-awful migraine.  Even though Peter was too exhausted to even give a whole-hearted smile.

But he pretended he was okay, put on a fake smile to make sure that no one had any idea just how much pain he really was in.

Because he has to.  


	2. Can’t Forget

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the response on the first chapter! I don’t really have a schedule for when I’m going to update. It’ll basically be whenever I have the time to write.
> 
> Anyway, hope you enjoy this chapter!

_“I should be over it,_

_but I’m not,_

_it still haunts me every day.”_

Chapter Two: Can’t Forget

Peter left second period feeling exhausted.  At the very least, getting detention didn’t really mean anything to Peter, especially when he got in trouble almost once a month.  Since Peter had Decathlon practice after school, he had to go to lunch detention instead.  All that meant was that Peter had to sit in the library for the half hour of lunch.  He could eat, get homework done, be alone so that he didn’t have to answer the same question of “are you sure you’re okay” over and over again.  It wasn’t that Peter relished in the idea of getting away from Ned or his friends but sometimes Peter just needed time to himself.

“Dude,” Ned said.  He rushed after Peter as they made their way to third period.  “Are you okay?  You look a little…”

“Tired?” Peter finished for him.  “It was a late night last night.”

“I can tell.  I don’t even remember the last time you almost missed two full class periods,” Ned said.  The two friends walked around the hallway and went toward their Spanish class.  It was a lively classroom, much different than the chemistry class Peter was supposed to go to first period.  Their Spanish teacher was the kind of teacher who decorated her classroom with bright green and pink posters plastered on the walls and fresh flowers on her desk.  “So, are you going on rounds again today?”

“I don’t know, Ned,” Peter responded, and that wasn’t a lie.  His arms and legs were sore and were practically shaking every time Peter tried to walk or even stand.  Not to mention the fact that the area where the bullet grazed Peter’s abdomen was throbbing in agony.  “I think I might take the day off.”

“Spider-Man never takes the day off!” Ned exclaimed.

 _That’s the problem_ , Peter thought to himself.  He went to take a pencil along with his Spanish workbook out of his backpack.  “I don’t know.  I haven’t been feeling all that great the past couple of days.  I might be getting sick or something… you know, I just, I need to make sure that I feel a hundred percent just in case something really bad happens.”

“Like you get called on an Avengers mission?” Ned said.

Peter bit his lip.  When he turned down the opportunity to be a real member of the Avengers, it seemed like Ned was more crushed than Peter was when Tony Stark took the Spider-Man suit away from him during the ferry incident.  It wasn’t like Peter hadn’t fantasized about being an Avenger ever since he got his powers his freshman year.  He had dreams about it, about fighting alongside Tony Stark and Vision and the War Machine (Captain America also but considering that he was a war criminal now, that seemed highly unlikely it would happen).  It wasn’t that Peter really wanted to be a part of some high-pressure situation with serious stakes like what happened in Sokovia during the age of Ultron, but being able to protect the world and being able to do it with people that Peter really looked up to was a dream of his.  Those dreams could have been made a reality a couple months ago if Peter had agreed to be an Avenger like Tony asked. And the suit Peter showed him!  It was amazing.  That Iron-Spider suit (that’s what Tony called it) was more sophisticated compared to the other suits Peter used.

Only, Peter knew he wasn’t ready to be an Avenger on multiple levels.  There was a certain kind of responsibility that came with being an Avenger, and it didn’t just include the fact that Peter would have to sign the Sokovia Accords and become an international figure.  Peter would have to stay at the compound upstate, probably go to a private school around that area and, when needed, he would leave school and fly somewhere exotic to fight bad guys with Iron Man.  Peter couldn’t just _leave_ Midtown, no matter how much he didn’t enjoy going to school on a day to day basis.  He didn’t want to leave Ned.  Or May.  As much as Peter would sometimes rather be in the Spider-Man suit, Peter didn’t want to grow up too fast or forever be known as Spider-Man the high school dropout.

“I don’t know.  Probably not,” Peter said.

“Yeah but—,” Ned started.

“Dude, I’m just tired.  Don’t you ever need a break from school or whatever?  It’s the same thing, sort of,” Peter said.  He felt kind of shitty for shooting down Ned the way he just did but it wasn’t like Peter could tell Ned what happened last night.  Ned would call May.  May would freak out and call Tony… and it would just be a mess.

Spanish dragged on like Peter has never experienced before.  He slumped over in his chair, hand pressed against his forehead as he sat in his desk trying to pay attention to today’s lesson.  Peter wasn’t interested in learning how to conjugate the subjunctive.  The bell rung halfway through the workbook assignment the class was trudging through, and Peter felt a surge of relief.  He packed his backpack.  “So, I guess I’ll see you at the Decathlon practice tonight?” Peter said to Ned as the two friends made their way out of the classroom.

Peter went to fill up his water bottle before trudging up the staircase to the second floor where the library was located.  Midtown had a massive library considering that it was just a high school.  Rows and rows of worn books and magazines and dingy computers that hardly run.  Peter went to the front desk where the librarian, an elder lady with tufts of white curly hair and massive spectacles sitting on top a very crooked nose, was sitting at her desk thumbing through a novel.  When Peter came to approach her, she set the book down and took his detention slip to sign off on it.

“Feel free to sit anywhere,” the librarian said in a monotone voice.

Peter nodded and gave her a half-hearted smile before going to sit at the back table.  At first, he had a serious thought about doing his homework.  He had pile of reading that he needed to do for his history class, not to mention a list of equations he needed to balance for chemistry and a slew of problems for his math class.  But none of those ideas seemed at all appealing — Peter took one look at his chemistry textbook and put it away.  He slung his backpack up on his shoulders and started wandering through the bookshelves.  Passed the science fiction without a second glance.  Picked out a couple of biographies, skimmed through it and then set it back into its spot.

At the moment, Peter heard his phone go off.  He yanked it out from the front pouch of his backpack and glanced at the notification.  It was a text from Tony.  Sighing, he unlocked his cell phone.  The message read: << _Heard you had a long night.  Wanted to check in.  I’m calling you in two minutes_ >>.  Peter’s eyes went wide as he saw the message.  Groaning, he went to find a spot in the corner of the library, well away from anyone that would try to eavesdrop and he answered the video chat when it came.

Tony Stark’s face filled the screen.  The features on his flushed, tan face were nothing but warm and caring and a slightly bit concerned.  His brown eyes took in Peter’s exhausted experience. “Well, well.  If it isn’t my favorite high school student,” Tony said in the same lavish, bold voice he always used when speaking.  Tony was Peter’s idol for practically all his life.  Peter remembered reading about Iron Man in the papers when he was younger.  He dreamed of getting to meet Iron Man, even if it was just a glance through a window of Tony Stark’s favorite restaurant.  The fact that Peter can say he _works_ with Tony Stark, that Tony Stark wanted to _call_ Peter on a regular basis would have made child-Peter giddy.

“Hi Tony,” Peter whispered.  He looked around a couple of times to check again if anyone was eavesdropping.  “I’m at school right now.  It might not be such a good idea for me to be talking to you.”

Okay.  That wasn’t completely true.  To be completely honest, Peter _wanted_ to talk to Tony.  He _loved_ talking to Tony, even if it meant being interrogated on the previous night’s rounds.  Peter hasn’t had another adult besides May care about Peter the way that Tony did.  No matter how harsh Tony has been with Peter (the words Tony said to him after the Staten Island ferry incident were practically engrained in his memory), the relationship the two shared felt like the relationship Peter had with Uncle Ben.  Intense and harsh but always realistic and always with Peter’s best interest at heart.  It didn’t matter what stupid thing Peter did because Tony forgave him and tried to help whenever possible.

“What?” Tony said.  He grinned, a wide one at that. “I thought people at your school would be excited about you talking to me,” Tony said.  

“Yeah… That’s true, I guess,” Peter said, sheepishly.  “What’s going on Tony?  Do you need — the other guy?”

“What are you? Bruce?” Tony said.  “I talked to your aunt this morning.  She said you didn’t look so great.”

Peter shrugged.  “I was out late.”

“How late were you out?”

“Does it matter?” Peter asked.  “I got back to school… _late_ , but I’m still here.  I’m all caught up on my homework right now.  I’m doing fine—”

“Well in that case you wouldn’t be opposed to coming to the compound tonight?” Tony asked.

Peter was ready to launch into a full-blown argument about why he didn’t need Tony babying him all the time, only the words were lost in the back of his throat.  “Oh… uh… come over tonight?  Why?”

“What?  I can’t ask my intern over to talk business?” Tony asked with a sly tone of voice.  “Come on.  May already agreed.”

Peter smiled.  Peter felt pretty torn right now: the idea of hanging out with Tony _really_ excited him and the idea of being able to relax for the night instead of doing rounds sounded appealing, given how thoroughly exhausted he was.  That being said, Peter didn’t like the idea of not being around Queens in case something bad happened.  “What about…” Peter hesitated, seeking to find the right word, “my _other_ responsibilities?  You know, for the internship?” He added, paranoid.

Tony’s eyebrows furrowed.  “Don’t worry.  There are other people who can handle your responsibilities for the night.  Besides, I’m coming to pick you up after Decathlon practice so you don’t really have a choice in the matter, anyway.”

 “Oh, alright.  I guess I’ll see you tonight, Tony,” Peter said.  He hung up the phone and slid it back into his backpack.  Peter sighed, both in relief and in despair.  Relief because he had an _excuse_ not to do rounds tonight and despair because he was  _relieved_ he didn’t have to be Spider-Man.  It wasn’t that Peter hated the responsibility of keeping Queens safe.  He loved it, but he also loved having a break and being able to let himself heal.  With the suit sitting in his closet every day, however, he felt like he couldn’t do with a break. 

“Sad you can’t spend the night alone?” someone asked, quietly, almost mockingly.

Peter jumped.  He just barely stopped himself from hitting the back of a library shelf as he turned to face the person who spoke to him.  It was Michelle Jones, the current Decathlon captain and also one of Peter’s friends, though she would never admit to that.  Sometimes MJ would come to sit with Peter and Ned at lunch or engage in small talk (though that was rarity — something about small talk being a waste of everyone’s lives) in between classes.  Though Peter always considered MJ to be one of his friends, Peter had to admit that he didn’t know a lot about her.  She was secretive, sometimes disappearing for days at a time without anyone seeing her.  Peter would only see her during Decathlon practice and then she would run off, gone again. 

MJ acted like the kind of girl who didn’t care about anyone or anything in the world.  She put up a harsh front where she vowed that she wouldn’t show her own emotions or really let anyone understand what she’s thinking or feeling unless it was about something she was protesting.  Still, Peter knew that underneath her façade was a girl who cared desperately about the Decathlon team and about her friends and her schoolwork, no matter how much she claimed she didn’t. 

Today, MJ’s unruly, curly hair was pulled into a loose bun, bangs swept across her face, just barely covering her soft brown eyes.  Her thin lips were stretched into a very serious expression, eyebrows raised as she glanced at Peter uncomfortably clutching his cell phone.  Her eyes, brown and wide as she stared at him, were still unjudging.  She wore no makeup but her bare skin was clear, unblemished.  A lot of guys at Midtown thought of Michelle as an outcast, some average looking girl who they tended to stray away from because she was “weird.”  Peter always thought of her as pretty, though, beautiful even.  The way she dressed, today in distressed boyfriend jeans and a black Led Zepplin long-sleeve shirt, wasn’t considered mainstream attire, but Peter liked it.

“Oh.  Hey,” Peter said.  She had her worn out backpack in one hand and a stack of books in the other.  “What are you reading?”  MJ pushed the stack of books into Peter’s arms.  He glanced at the titles: _Moby Dick, Lolita_ and _Little Women_.  It was obvious that Michelle had owned these books for a while: the colors on the cover were worn, the pages were wrinkled and, as Peter thumbed through _Moby Dick_ , he noticed annotations were scribbled in the margins. “Are you reading them all at once or…” he said as he handed the books back to MJ.

“I’m reading _Lolita_ right now.  Well, rereading,” she said.  She dropped her backpack on the ground to use as a pillow.  She leaned against the wall and opened up the novel to about halfway through.

“Okay…” Peter whispered.  He felt awkward just standing there watching her read, like an unwanted guest almost.  “I guess I’ll just—”

“You don’t have to leave,” she said without looking up from her book.

That wasn’t something Peter expected to hear.  He glanced down at Michelle, who was now pulling out an apple from her backpack.  “Uh, okay.” 

Peter set his backpack down and went to sit down beside her.  MJ seemed pretty preoccupied with her novel, so Peter didn’t say anything.  Besides feeling intrusive, he also felt like a fish out of water trying to decide what he should say to her — _if_ he should even say anything.  Instead, Peter pulled out his textbook, the thought of having to speak being a good motivation to start studying.  The sound of Michelle eating an apple made him realize how absolutely famished he was, too, so Peter took the paper bag with his lunch in it out as well.  May made lunch for him that morning: a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, some carrots, chips and a granola bar. 

“So, is this where you go every day when you aren’t having lunch with us?” Peter asked.

MJ looked up from her before saying, “Sometimes.  There’s also a nice little bench outside by the football field.  Gets a little cold but there’s no one there to bother me.”

Again, that makes Peter feel like he was being intrusive sitting there with Michelle, but he tries to push those feelings aside.  “It’s freezing outside,” Peter said, “and I never see you with a coat.”

Michelle just shrugged. “I just get something warm to drink.  Normally helps.”

It was silent for a second.  Michelle went back to reading her novel rather intently, and Peter tried to focus on his homework.  But as he ate his sandwich in silence, he couldn’t help but glance back at Michelle, who was twirling the apple core in her hands.  “Is that all you have for lunch?” Peter asked.  He tried to act nonchalant about it.

She shrugged.  “I was running late this morning.”

“Do you want some chips?” Peter asked.  He put the bag of tortilla chips in between him and Michelle.  “Don’t worry.  I have plenty of food… besides, we have Decathlon practice tonight.  You’re going to be starving if you don’t eat enough now.”

MJ grimaced.  “No, we don’t.  I — uh, I need to send out an email but I think I’m going to cancel Decathlon practice,” she said.  She looked up at Peter.  “I have to pick up my little brother from elementary school today.  My dad, he, uh, he’s normally the one to do it but he’s busy today so…”

“Oh…” Peter said. 

“Yeah, so you can tell Tony Stark that he can pick you up right after school,” Michelle said.

Peter’s face flushed red.  He was suddenly very thankfully that neither of them were stupid enough to openly talk about Peter’s other identity.  “Yeah.  I’ll — I’ll have to do that.”  He paused for a second and then said, “Still.  Friends share food with other friends.  It’s just a thing we do,” Peter said, jokingly.  He elbowed Michelle playfully.

She cringed, rolling her eyes.  “Thanks…” she whispered, nonetheless.  “I heard you missed first period and almost second today.”

“How’d you know that?” Peter asked.

“Told you,” she whispered.  “I’m observant.”  Peter chuckled as he thought back to what she said last year when he was trying to quit the Decathlon team.  At the same time, knowing how _observant_ Michelle was sometimes made Peter a little nervous.  It wasn’t like Peter hid the fact that he was Spider-Man all that well.  He was sure that MJ could keep a secret, but it wasn’t one that Peter was ready for her to know.

“Lunch detention isn’t that bad,” Peter admitted.  “It’s quiet.  I think I could take a nap right now, though.”  He jokingly rested his head against his backpack.

MJ smiled.  “Yeah, you should.  You look like you didn’t sleep last night.”

Peter shrugged.  “I mean, I did sleep.  It’s just—”

“You hurt yourself again?”

Peter raised his eyebrows.  “Uh, what do you mean?”

“I mean, every time you walk you look like you’re in pain,” Michelle said.  There was a pause and then she added, “Then again, you’ve been walking like that almost all year so I guess it’s just your face.”

Peter laughed.  “Yeah, I guess.”

Michelle went back to reading her book, and Peter went back to being confused and trying to force himself to do his schoolwork.  Before he even thought about opening up his textbook, he sent Tony a quick text telling him about how practice was canceled.  Then, he attempted to sift through information on the judicial branch.  Peter wasn’t surprised when his mind immediately started drifting; his brain can only focus on Marbury vs. Madison for so long.  His thoughts bounced around for a little bit, from where Tony was planning on taking Peter to dinner and what they were planning on doing that night.  Was there a mission that Tony needed Spider-Man for?  Did Tony have another suit for Peter to use?

At first, they sat in silence together.  Peter spent a couple of minutes thumbing through his history textbook while the two of them bonded over Peter’s tortilla chips.  As fourth period drew nearer, however, Peter helped Michelle write up a draft email to send out to the Decathlon team to cancel practice.  It was weird for Michelle to cancel practice when she honestly seemed so dedicated to the team but Peter didn’t question it.  When the bell sounded, the two of them gathered up their things and walked to fourth period together in silence.  Even though Peter didn’t get to spend lunch with Ned, he was pleasantly surprised with how much he enjoyed Michelle’s company; he even went to fourth period with _Moby Dick_ in his backpack.

Fourth period went by faster than Peter expected.  He got his math test back, but it was a good grade so Peter wouldn’t have to sit there and come up with an excuse to explain it to Tony and May.  When the bell rung, he stuffed his belongings into his backpack, grabbed his jacket from his locker and checked his cellphone.  Sure enough, there was a text from Tony that said he was waiting outside the front of Midtown.  It wasn’t like Peter lived in a low income neighborhood, not with kids who lived in the suburbs, but Tony’s brightly colored Audi convertible and personalized licenses plate was ostentatious even parked beside Flash’s car.  Tony was leaning against the back of his car, in a stylish, black three-piece suit, hair combed back.  He had his hands in his pockets.  When Tony saw Peter, he waved.

“Hi Tony,” Peter said.

“How was school?” Tony asked.  He went to open the back of the Audi so that Peter could put his backpack inside.  “You look exhausted.”

Peter shrugged.  “I just came from school.  Of course I’m tired.”

Tony chuckled.  When it came to school, Tony and Peter weren’t all that different.  Not that Peter thought of himself as a genius or anything, but he thought he was pretty good at school all things considering, and so was Tony.  Tony went to MIT for his degree, and Peter, though he could never actually afford a school like MIT, aspired to go to a school of that level.  Not to mention, Tony understood why Peter was so restless while he was sitting in class.

“Seems like all your friends are staring,” Tony said. 

Peter looked around: heads were, in fact, turning to stare at the two of them.  “Well, no one really believed me when I said that I had an internship with Tony Stark so…”  Peter trailed off.  He looked around the parking lot for a couple of seconds before he saw Flash Thompson and Jason Ionello, two guys who staunchly believed that Peter was full of shit when it came to the internship, stopped dead center by Flash’s car.  They were gaping at Tony and Peter.  Tony waved and the two went crazy.

“Come on.  Let’s go,” Tony said.

The two got into his car and Tony pulled out of the parking lot.  Going from Midtown to the compound was only a forty-five minute drive, and a lively one at that.  Even in a state like New York, seeing someone like Tony Stark driving on the road with some teenager always turned heads.  Tony was somewhat of a local celebrity, being Iron-Man and all that, so it made Peter a little nervous whenever he would see people turning to snap photos of the two of them together.  Peter being Tony Stark’s intern was a good cover, however, and Tony’s PR team (mostly Pepper Potts) would make sure that no one would think twice about the kid with Tony Stark.  Besides some intruding photographers, the drive to the compound was a pleasant one. Peter never really had a reason to leave the city so when he did, he always enjoyed taking in the sights. 

The compound itself was a sight to behold, as well.  The sprawling, sloping lawn led straight to the six-car garage (Tony apparently downsized), which alone was the size of Peter’s entire apartment.  Tony parked the Audi into its allocated spot before going to get Peter’s backpack for him.  They walked inside, and Peter’s heart skipped a couple of beats, the way it always did when he was inside the Avengers Compound.  Making their way through the hallway that connected the garage to the main building, Peter stopped just momentarily to take in the _massive_ foyer with the gleaming overhead lights that beamed down on the Avenger symbol, an A with a circle around it.  He followed Tony into the kitchen and living room where soft music was playing in the background and the news was playing on mute on a plasma TV in front of the island in the kitchen.

Tony went to take a seat at the low-seated green couches in the living room; a very expensive looking chess set sat at the rectangular coffee table in front.  Tony set Peter’s backpack on the ground beside him, so Peter took that as an indication to go join him.  “How were your rounds last night?” Tony asked when Peter was all situated.

Just as Tony asked the question, Peter felt himself subconsciously touch the side of his body where he was injured.  “Uh, fine, I guess.  Things got a little crazier so I’m more tired than usual…”

“How so?”

Peter bit his lip.  He knew he shouldn’t be lying to Tony, not when Tony just has Peter’s best interest at heart.  At the same time, however, Peter didn’t want to risk losing his suit or being forced to stay sidelined for more than a couple of days when he knows there will probably be people he has to help.  “Car chase.  Hostage situation.  Got pretty tricky,” Peter said.  That was grounded in the truth so Peter didn’t feel completely shitty about leaving out the getting shot part.

“But Spider-Man handled it?” Tony asked with a smile on his face.

Peter grinned.  “Yeah.  Yeah he did — I did.”

“Good.  How’s the suit working for you?”

 _Covered in blood.  Probably ruined, too_ , Peter thought to himself.  “It’s good,” he answered.  “Better than good, Mr. Stark.  I love it.”

Tony frowned.  “That’s good, at least.  You don’t think I added too much gadgets or technology to it?  Sometimes when there’s too much going on with a suit it can kind of distract you when you’re in the middle of a fight.”

Peter shook his head.  “No!  No, it’s perfect.  Thank you… _Again_.  Really, it means a lot that you made it for me.”

The thing is Peter got on perfectly fine without the new, tech-heavy suit that Tony gave him.  Even though the one Peter made for himself was nothing but a track suit and an old red sweatshirt Peter got from a thrift store, it was authentic.  The original Spider-Man suit that defined his character to the rest of Queens.  Peter relied on his own brain to come up with the formula to make the webbing, not to mention he fought off Adrian Toomes in his homemade suit.  That being said, Peter could not be more thankful for what Tony Stark gave him.  So maybe Peter felt a little overwhelmed with the different types of webs that he could use but he’s gotten used to it.  Peter can still fight on his own without all those gizmos — it just made it easier.  Perhaps, Peter wasn’t fond of the instant kill mode, that’s for sure, but everything Tony did was to make sure that Peter got out of a fight alive and _relatively_ unharmed.  For that reason, Peter could be nothing but grateful toward Tony Stark.

“So, what did you have planned for us today?” Peter asked.  “Are there any Avenger missions we need to talk about?”

Tony chuckled.  “You said you didn’t want to be an Avenger.”

“That doesn’t mean I can’t help you guys out,” Peter said.

“Well, I have your number if anything comes up,” Tony said.  “Don’t count on it, though.  You seem like you have enough on your hands as it is.”

Peter sighed.  “That’s not—”

“I know, I know.  You’re an adult.  You can take care of yourself.  I said the same thing to my father when I was a kid,” Tony said, chuckling.  He patted Peter on the back.  “How did your math test go?”

“I got an A.”

“What about the Decathlon team?  Why did practice get canceled today?” Tony asked.

“Our captain, um, Michelle Jones — I think I mentioned her a couple of times before — had to do something so it’s being rescheduled,” Peter said.  “Kind of surprised it got canceled.  She’s pretty dedicated to the team.”

“And do you like this Michelle?” Tony asked. 

Peter looked up with a weird expression on his face.  “Uh… I mean, she’s a friend.  To be honest, I don’t really know a lot about her,” Peter admitted, and that wasn’t a lie.  So maybe Peter knows that she loves to read and that she has a younger brother, but Peter doesn’t know a lot about her.  What her favorite song is.  What she does in her free time.  If she likes watching Netflix.

“How long have you known her?”

“She moved to Midtown her freshman year, so not very long,” Peter said.

Even then, Peter had a lot more going on in his freshman year to let himself get to know Michelle the way he probably should have.  His freshman year was the year Peter went on a field trip with his freshman biology class to Oscorps and was bitten by that radioactive spider, the year that Peter Parker became _Spider-Man._  Also, someone named Tony Stark just so happened to go knocking on the door of Peter’s apartment and ask him to travel to Germany to fight Captain America and his friends.  Peter was just _busy_ his freshman year.  The summer going into sophomore year, Peter never saw Michelle and, boom, beginning of sophomore year, he was busy with the Vulture (and ogling over Liz).

“I guess you can get to know her this year,” Tony said.

“Are you trying to set me up with someone?” Peter asked, laughing.  “Because, you know, I’m not that great with girls in case you haven’t noticed.”

Tony shrugged.  “Come on.  I dated tons of girls in high school.”

“Yeah but weren’t you rich and popular in high school?  In case you haven’t noticed, I am _not_ that,” Peter muttered.

“Life is too short to worry about popularity and being cool,” Tony said.  “That was something I think I took too long trying to figure out.  Besides, how many kids in your high school can say that they’re Spider-Man?”

“How many kids in my school _know_ I’m Spider-Man?” Peter muttered.

Tony frowned.  “Do you ever think about telling everyone who’s under that mask?”

Peter hesitated for a second because, to be completely honest, he has thought about telling everyone and he has shamelessly fantasized about what it would be like for people to know that Peter was Spider-Man.  He remembered lying in bed thinking about it right before he was about to fall asleep: Flash and Ian would stop picking on Peter all the time; Liz wouldn’t just think of Peter as this nerdy kid who was two years younger than her.  People would actually care about who Peter Parker was.

“Sometimes,” Peter finally admitted. “But normally it’s for the wrong reasons.”

“And what reasons do you have to keep the mask on?” Tony asked.

“Having a secret identity is kind of nice.  I don’t have to worry about people shoving cameras in my face the way they do with you,” Peter said.  “Plus, I don’t know, if bad guys found out what my real identity was, they might come after May or Ned and… I don’t want them to be put in any danger,” Peter said.  “So, I guess the reasons why I should keep my secret identity are just more important than the reasons why I shouldn’t.”

“That’s a mature thing for you to understand,” Tony said.  He pat Peter on the back.  “That was one thing I guess I could’ve worked on…”

“Do you ever wish you didn’t tell the world that you were Iron-Man?” Peter asked.

Tony shrugged.  “Sometimes the privacy would be nice but I’m also not in high school so it’s different.  If I was your age, I’m pretty sure I would have kept my secret identity just like you.” 

The conversation moved from talking about high school and Peter’s secret identity to discussing Peter’s rounds.  Peter started to get more excited as he talked about what features of the suit he liked the most, from the grenade webs to how important Karen is to Spider-Man’s ability to fight off crime.  Not only does Karen keep Peter company when he has the suit on, Karen located where crime was happening, kept Peter from getting lost and made operating such a high-tech suit a little easier.  Tony even took the time to go over some of the hidden features that Peter wasn’t aware of: the thermal vision Peter could use when trying to scope out buildings, the built-in flashlight and a voice modifier to prevent people from recognizing his voice.  The more and more Tony went over all the cool gadgets in the suit, the more and more Peter realized he _wasn’t_ using the suit to its full advantage.  Because Peter didn’t _need_ to. 

When they were finished talking about the suit, and Tony had written down everything that Peter liked and dislike about it, they went back to the kitchen where Tony started to prepare dinner.  He was making some kind of pasta, one that he got from a cookbook even though Tony claimed that he preferred just coming up with recipes on his own.  Tony refused Peter’s help as he prepped the roasted Brussel sprouts that would be going on the side.  Don’t get him wrong, Peter was dead useless in the kitchen but he hated the idea of people doing something for him when he could help.

“I can cook the pasta.  I know how to do that,” Peter offered.  He went to get a pot from under the sink, only Tony stopped him.

“No, no,” Tony said.  “You’re my guest.  It would be rude to ask you to cook.”

“It’s just, you don’t have to do this for me,” Peter said.

Tony smiled.  “I want to do it.” He turned the stove on and set a pot of water over the burner.  “Besides, we have such a nice kitchen and Rhodes and I are the only people that uses it.”

“Oh… right… Vision can’t eat…” Peter muttered.  Peter still needed to get used to the fact that he was on a first name basis with Tony Stark or Iron Man, which meant that Peter would need to get used to talking about the Avengers in such a casual manner.  That being said, Peter felt a little giddy whenever he let himself realize that he’s sitting in a chair that Captain America probably sat at.  “So, where are the others?”

Tony chuckled.  He grabbed hold of a huge pot.  “And by others, you mean the only two Avengers left?” Tony said, chuckling.

Peter grimaced — even though he was there during the Civil War and he _fought_ on Tony’s side, he kept forgetting how few there were left who could be legally considered an Avenger.  All of Team Cap were fugitives.  Natasha Romanoff _was_ on Tony’s side but her loyalty changed, protected Captain America when she had the chance to take him down.  Supposedly, the Black Panther, T’Challa — _a king_ — who fought alongside Tony because he thought the Winter Soldier killed his father was now harboring Bucky.  The whole thing was a mess.  When Peter took Tony’s side, he thought he was doing the right thing.  Peter thought he just fighting alongside Iron Man, trying to take a guy who bombed the UN down, trying to stop Captain America from going too far outside the law.  He thought he was trying to salvage what was left of the Avengers.  As it turns out, Bucky was framed.  Changed the way the whole thing went.  Only, the fighting didn’t stop when Tony found out that Bucky was innocent.  _Something_ happened in Siberia.

“Vision is in DC.  Now that Ms. Romanoff is a fugitive, she’s no longer our rep with Ross or the UN so Vision has decided to take her place. Vision’s diplomatic and plays better with Ross than I do so I’m happy about it,” Tony said. 

“Is Ross still pissed you didn’t go to the Raft after the breakout?” Peter asked.  _That_ was on the news everywhere.  Peter can still remember the headliners after what happened: _Mass breakout from the Raft Prison, former Avengers turned traitors disappear_.  Despite Ross’s demands for Tony and Vision to try to find the others, there was a lot of fielding calls.

“Very.”

“And Rhodes?” Peter asked.

“Rhodes is in South Korea meeting with Dr. Cho.  Just trying out different solutions for how to solve… what happened,” Tony said.

Peter has only met Rhodes a couple of times.  While he seemed like he was doing better each time, Peter could tell how hard Rhodes was having with the partial paralysis.  Tony’s invention to help him walk was being tested and rebuilt and then redesigned.  A constant cycle that didn’t seem to end any time soon.  It doesn’t look like Rhodes will ever make a complete recovery.  What made it worse was that it wasn’t some bad guy who would eventually get their ass kicked by the Avengers who did this to Rhodes.  It was _one of them_.  It was another Avenger — _Vision_ — who shot Rhodes down.  They were on the same side, too, trying to shoot Sam Wilson down instead.

“When will he be back?” Peter said.  He tried to sound as nonchalant as possible.

“Couple of days.”  The timer on the oven went off before Peter could ask any more questions and judging by the way that Tony eagerly dished out their food, it was evident that Peter shouldn’t push on the subject.  “Hope you’re hungry,” Tony said as he put the food in front of them.  “Do you want something to drink?”

“Water’s fine,” Peter said.  He stabbed his fork into the pasta concoction, stirring up the meat sauce and parmesan cheese.  “So, what is this?”

“Homemade pasta with bologosne sauce.  Good thing you’re not a vegetarian,” Tony said.  “I spent all day working on this so eat up.”

“Don’t you have anything better to do during the day?” Peter said lightly.

Thankfully, Tony took the joke.  “Between running a multimillionaire company and upholding the sacred image of the Avengers because _that_ image hasn’t been completely ruined to the public’s eye, I have quite a bit of free time.  Seriously.  Try it.”

“Yes sir,” Peter complied.  He took a bite.  Instantly, Peter’s taste buds started dancing.  “Wow.  This is — this is really good, Tony.  Thank you.”

Tony smiled.  “Glad you like it.  Is it as good as May’s cooking?”

Peter shook his head.  “You’ll never quite be able to compare with that but you’re getting close.”  Peter took another massive bite, stretching out to grab hold of his glass of water.  Unfortunately, Peter stretched his arm a little bit farther and pain erupted where he was shot.  He let out a shaky breath. 

“You alright kid?”

Peter nodded.  “Yeah.  Yeah.  Just sore and everything… I’m just pretty tired, though.  I’ve got a lot of stuff going on this week.”

“You know, if you have a lot of homework, I have plenty of quiet places.  I have some paperwork I need to fill out so we could get some work done together,” Tony offered.

Peter grinned.  “Yeah.  That’d be cool.  You can even help me with my math homework.”

“Let’s not push it,” Tony said, laughing

The rest of the night went by fast.  When Tony called this afternoon asking Peter if he wanted to come over, he didn’t know what to expect.  However, as the night progressed, he realized that he genuinely enjoyed spending time with a man who basically became another father-figure for him.  Peter had to admit he judged Tony a little harsher than he should have because Tony was a surprisingly good cook.  After getting seconds and contemplating going for thirds but deciding not to, Peter and Tony loaded the dishwasher, cleaned up a little in the kitchen (Peter insisted and, for once, Tony didn’t argue) before they went up the third floor.  There was a little greenroom with massive windows that overlooked the lush forest right outside the compound.  It was a beautiful view, one where you could actually see the cities and the homes that you would have to pass when driving to the compound.  They went to sit on one of the plush couches where Tony pulled up a table for them and they started working through whatever they needed to do.  Despite what Tony said before, when Peter found himself stuck on his chemistry homework, Tony tucked his pen behind his ear and eagerly went to help him.  And when Peter finished his homework and started going over the flashcards Michelle made for the Decathlon team, Tony offered to quiz him.  It was a nice, peaceful evening, and a productive one at that.

In the back of his head, however, Peter felt a little guilty for not being Spider-Man tonight.  He contemplated asking Friday if there was anything that Peter’s alter ego needed to take care of but Peter was so relaxed at the compound.  He didn’t need to worry about any responsibilities other than the ones _Peter Parker_ had to take care of.  Peter figured that he needed the day off anyway after what happened yesterday.  The local police force would be able to handle any minor crimes going on.  If it was serious then Spider-Man and Iron-Man could take care of the problem.  That would be a very different situation than Peter trying to handle the problem himself.

“Wow,” Tony said after what felt like hours of solid work and focus.  “Look at the time.”

Peter pulled out his cell phone.  It was 9:00.  “Shit,” Peter said.  “Er, shoot.  Sorry.  Jeez, I should probably head back.”  Peter started gathering up his books and stuffing it into his backpack.  “May probably won’t be very happy if I don’t come home soon.”

“You can spend the night if you want,” Tony offered.  “May won’t mind.  I talked to her about it this afternoon.  Just in case.”

“Oh…” Peter knelt back down.  “But I don’t have a spare change of clothes…or a room.”

Tony smiled.  “Come on.  I can show you to your bedroom.”

Tony and Peter gathered up their belongings and they quickly walked down the spiral stairs to the second floor where they went to the room at the far end of an empty hallway.  The guest bedroom was twice as large as the room Peter had back home, if not more.  It was a simple room: gray walls, a plasma TV in front of the king size bed with white sheets and huge windows that led to a balcony.  It was a fantastic view of the forest, one that Peter greatly admired.  “Before you turned down my offer to be an Avenger, I had a room set up just for you.  Take a closer look,” Tony said, gesturing toward the cabinet underneath the TV.  Inside were video games, superhero movies, the _Die Hard_ series, _Star Wars_ , everything Peter loved.  He went to open the closet doors that were filled with clothes Peter quickly realized had never been worn, clothes that Peter would _want_ to wear but couldn’t afford. 

“Wow,” Peter said.  “And everything in here is for me?”

“Yeah.  I decided not to get rid of this room since I figured you would be over eventually.”

“This is — wow, Mr. Stark.  Thank you,” Peter said.  He turned to look back at the bed.  It made Peter feel suddenly exhausted as he thought about how _relaxing_ it would be just to lie down, watch some TV and then fall asleep.  Peter couldn’t help but yawn.

“Tired?” Tony asked.

Peter nodded.  “Yeah.”

“When was the last time you fell asleep before one in the morning?” Tony asked.

Peter thought for a second before he said, “Probably the night after the Vulture fight and I passed out trying to do my homework.”

“Go to bed,” Tony said.  “I’ll have breakfast for you in the morning.”

“It’s only ten o’clock—,” Peter started.

“ _Go to bed_ ,” Tony said again.

Peter decided not to argue, not when the idea of getting a full night’s rest sounded _so_ inviting.  Tony showed Peter where the sweats and t-shirts were kept and then left him alone to get ready for bed.  When Tony was out of the room and Peter was sure he was by himself, he went to the bathroom and lifted up his shirt to check his patchwork.  The stitches didn’t tear, which was surprising considering that Peter hasn’t necessarily been all that careful today.  He searched through the medicine cabinets for some pain pills — thankfully they were easy to find.  Popped a few in his mouth and drank straight from the tap to down them.  With the pain pills in his system, Peter was ready to sleep.  He went to his bed, turned the TV on and lowered the volume to where it was barely audible in the background.  The second he put his head against that pillow, that _unbelievably_ soft pillow, he was out cold.

* * *

_In his dream, Peter was standing in the middle of a dark parking garage.  It was by no means a nice parking garage, not with cracks in the infrastructure that made it look dangerously like it was about to crumble.  There was just one car in the entire parking lot, a red Honda CRV with a scratch running from the handle on the driver’s side door to the handle on the back doors.  Peter recognized that car.  It was May’s… and he only knew that because he was the person who was responsible for the damage done on the driver’s side.  He tried to open his mouth, call for his aunt, figure out if she’s close by and try to find an answer as to why Peter was standing in the middle of a parking garage.  Only, Peter couldn’t say anything.  He kept mouthing out May’s name but nothing was coming out._

_Something behind Peter moved_ — _his spidey-senses at the very least told him that.  It was May, making her way toward Peter with a very serious look on her face and a very worried look on her face like the one she had when Peter left school during the Staten Island ferry incident.  Peter fought desperately to try and communicate with his aunt._

_“You should have been faster,” May whispered._

_Peter didn’t understand.  He thought he was glued to ground._

_“I didn’t miss, Parker,” came another voice, a much deeper, much more serious and much more terrifying voice.  Peter looked away from his aunt for one second.  He recognized that voice.  Adrian Toomes was standing on the other side of the parking garage, holding one of those ray guns with the chittauri core, very similar to the one that ripped the ferry to shreds and almost killed a slew of innocent people.  “I didn’t miss.”_

_As a millisecond passed after Adrian Toomes spoke, Peter could hear the ceiling up above start to crumble.  Large pieces of the parking garage began falling apart, headed straight toward where Peter was standing.  The first piece of rubble hit Peter hard.  He felt his back explode in god-awful pain as he flattened onto the ground.  Another landed on top of him, this time on his ankle.  Piece by piece the rooftop of the parking garage crushed Peter’s body, squishing his legs in between rubble, crushing his ribs.  His face was pressed against the ground, which was suddenly covered in murky water.  Murky, dirty water that made Peter gag as he was forced to inhale it._

_Peter lifted his head just barely to take a breath.  He saw Adrian Toomes going closer to May._ May!  _Peter tried yelling.  Fighting to break free from underneath the rubble, Peter could just barely move his hands a little bit to try and get better leverage to push the ceiling off of him.  Nothing worked.  Peter couldn’t get himself free.  He couldn’t protect May from Adrian Toomes._

* * *

Something grabbed hold of Peter’s shoulder.  He flailed in his bed, hitting something hard.  Peter’s eyes flew open.  He sat straight up, letting out a heavy gasp for breath.  Peter blinked hard a couple of times, only to see Adrian Toomes — _the Vulture_ — hovering over Peter’s bed.  The nightmare wasn’t over.  He was still wearing that worn leather jacket, those goggles and the wings that let out a terrible screeching noise as the blades spun in the air.  Toomes had a twisted, angry smile on his face, eyes filled with hatred as he lowered himself closer and closer to where Peter was lying.  Peter reacted fast, scrambling to get to his suit.  He fell out of a bed with a jolt.  Sharp pain racked his body as Peter’s ribs hit the side of his nightstand, exactly where the poorly-done stitches were.  Peter moaned.  He couldn’t think about how much pain he was in right now, not when the Vulture was hovering above him.

Peter needed to get to his suit.  He needed to save himself.  And Tony.  He needed to —

“Whoa, whoa, kid!”

Peter froze, his back hitting the nightstand.  He shook his head, blinked a few times as he tried to orient himself.  He was still in the guest room at the compound.  Glancing at the digital clock on one of the nightstands, Peter realized that it was 3:00 in the morning.  The TV was still on, playing a rerun of the most recent Knicks game.  Sweat was building up on the back of Peter’s neck and his forehead.  Beside him, the down comforter on Peter’s bed was torn off the side of the bed, and the picture on the night side had toppled over.  Only, there was no Vulture in the guest room.

It was just Tony.  He was hovering over Peter, dressed in black sweat pants and a loose-fitting blue t-shirt.  Tony’s eyes were wide with concern as he looked over Peter, one hand pressed against Peter’s shoulder.  “Hey, hey, what’s going on?”

“I — I…” Peter gasped.  “I don’t… but the Vulture… _he’s here!”_

Tony shook his head.  He grabbed hold of Peter’s shoulder even tighter.  “No, no.  He’s not here.  Adrian Toomes is in prison.   _You’re safe,”_ Tony urges. 

Tony’s words stayed suspended in the air for a long second.  Peter sat there, back pressed against the bedroom nightstand, still shaking as he tried to figure out what happened.  Gasping, Peter brought his knees to his chest, tears leaking from his eyes.  He tried hiding it, quickly tearing away from Tony’s grasp as he tried to wipe away tears.  Peter wasn’t sure if he was crying out of relief that the Vulture was still in jail or the fact that he was still _terrified_ just thinking of his nightmare or the fact that he didn’t want Tony to see him like this.  “It’s alright, kid,” Tony whispered.  He grabbed hold of Peter and pulled him into a loose grasp that eventually turned to a tight hug.  At first, it seemed weird to Peter having Tony give him a hug, but it felt right, like it was a hug from Uncle Ben or Peter’s dad…

“Come on.  Let’s get you back up,” Tony said.

Tony hooked his arms around Peter’s arms and helped him off the ground to the bed.  Peter, still confused, sat on the bed for a long second before he became suddenly aware that the wound in his chest was in complete agony.  He pressed his fingers lightly against the gunshot wound.  The stitches were loose — he could feel parts of the thread sticking out.  To subside the pain, Peter tried to take a deep breath, only he felt like that was making it worse.  He let out an awful groan, pressing his head against the bedframe.

“What’s going on, kid?” Tony asked.  Peter hadn’t seen this man look so worried, _frightened_ almost.  He glanced at the area Peter was clutching and noticed the blood seeping through Peter’s undershirt.  “Okay.  I have a little infirmary on the second floor.  Let’s go.” 

Tony wrapped his arm around Peter and pulled him to his feet.  The older man kept his hand pressed against where Peter was shot as they staggered up the flight of stairs to where the infirmary was.  For being a home-hospital, it was pretty decent: cots, surgical lights, EKG machines, X-Rays and a slew of other machines Peter didn’t recognize.  Tony went to set Peter down on the hospital bed before going to gather up some gauze and pain medication.  With all the needed materials gathered, Tony went to help lift the sweaty undershirt off of Peter just enough to see the ghastly wound.  The last thing Peter wanted was for Tony to know what happened the other night but it wasn’t like Peter could just shrug it off.  He didn’t have the energy nor would Tony just ignore how much Peter was bleeding.

“Jesus,” Tony whispered as he stared at the bloody mess on Peter’s chest.  The already awful looking stitching was clearly coming apart.  There were terrible bruises and a nasty looking gouge in the bottom of his abdomen with blood seeping out.  “What the hell is this, Peter?”  There was a hint of anger in Tony’s voice but it was mostly masked by how utterly concerned Tony seemed.

Peter contemplated lying.  He cut himself on last night’s round.  Some mugger had a knife and got lucky.  But then just looking into Tony’s eyes, Peter really had to come up with a good reason as to why he would lie to Tony.  Judging by this man’s expression, Tony would _never_ fathom castigating Peter right now.  So, Peter decided to be honest.  “There was an armed robbery at a bank the other night and I chased them down in their getaway car… One of them had a gun and…” Peter faltered.  It wasn’t like he needed to finish the sentence, anyway.

Tony paused.  He staggered a couple steps backwards, eyebrows narrowed with shock as he let what Peter said sink in.  “We should get you to a hospital… Get you some proper medical attention.”

Peter shook his head.  Proper medical attention means needing to call his real guardian, and that meant that May would find out about what happened to Peter… and that would mean May would probably burn the Spider-Man suit.  “No, Mr. Stark.  Really, I’m—”

“ _You are not okay_ ,” Tony urged.  Now he did sound angry, angry that Peter hadn’t been taking care of himself like he promised May when she found out.  “Why did you hide this?  Why didn’t you tell me about this?”

“Because I handled it,” Peter whispered.

“ _Clearly_ ,” Tony said.  Peter looked at the older Avenger, searching for any emotion other than concern — at the very least, Tony being angry would make Peter feel less guilty for lying — but there was none.  Not surprising.  Tony’s eyebrows scrunched together, like he was thinking awfully hard.  “Let’s get you some pain meds, yeah?” Tony asked after a long second of silence in which Peter thought his heart was going to burst with anxiety as he waited for Tony to break the silence. 

“Uh, yeah, that’d — that’d be nice,” Peter admitted.

Tony weakly returned Peter’s half-hearted smile.  He rummaged through a couple of cabinets by the X-Ray machine before taking out a small bottle of pills, filling a glass of water from the tap and then handing it to Peter.  Peter swallowed it without hesitation, knowing that it would take a little bit of time for the pills to take full effect, not to mention his fast metabolism would burn through the medication pretty quickly.  He took a deep breath but that only exacerbated how much pain Peter was in.  He groaned, reaching for the gunshot wound.

Tony frowned.  “And you tried to stitch this up yourself?”

Peter nodded.  “Yeah… Wasn’t… wasn’t that difficult,” he managed, head feeling heavy as he tried to ignore how much pain he was in.

Tony scoffed.  “Looks like it,” he said, bitterly.  “Why don’t you let me fix you up, huh?”

“Can you?” Peter said. 

“I’ve taken care of worse, Peter,” Tony said.

He flipped on a surgical lamp that made the room feel ten times brighter.  Peter blinked a couple of times as he tried to orient himself against the harsh light.  Under Tony’s command, Peter leaned back into the hospital bed, head resting against a stack of soft, fluffy pillows, so comfortable that Peter thought he was going to fall asleep again.  Tony began with removing the poorly done stitches.  The tugging hurt a little bit more than Peter expected, though he assumed that was his own fault for doing such a bad job at putting them in himself.  To keep himself from groaning out loud — there was no need to make Tony any more concerned about Peter’s health — Peter bit down on his lip so hard he was afraid it would start bleeding.  It was finished soon.  _Thank god_.  Not to mention Peter’s enhanced healing meant that his wound was nearly healed, so at the very least Tony didn’t need to put more stitches in.  While there was no need for stitches, it still needed to be properly bandaged.  Tons of gauze and medical tape later, Peter was all cleaned up.  Tony brought him a fresh shirt from his temporary bedroom.  Peter slipped it on quickly, the wound that was just dressed feeling like a huge, unnatural bulge on the side of his body.

“Feels better,” Peter whispered.

“Good,” Tony said.  “Are the pain meds kicking in?”

Peter nodded.  “Yeah.  Could be worse.”

“ _Shouldn’t_ be worse,” Tony said, sternly.  Peter wanted to argue with Tony but he figured that it would be no good trying to argue with him right now.  “I thought we agreed that you were supposed to tell me when this kind of stuff happens.”

“I know.  I know I screwed up.  It won’t—”

“You could’ve died, Peter.  Bled out.  This could have gotten infected,” Tony said.  “I don’t want to risk you dying.  Not on my watch.”

“I’m sorry,” Peter offered.  He wasn’t sure how much an apology would be worth now. 

Tony put his hand on Peter’s back.  “You promise the next time something like this happens, you’ll come to me?”

Peter nodded briskly, almost so fast he thought he was going to hurt his neck.  “Of course.  I promise Mr. Stark, I won’t — I won’t let it get out of hand again.”

“Okay,” Tony nodded.  “And you know I’m not just here to baby you, right?”

That made Peter feel pretty guilty.  “Believe me, I learned my lesson.  Oh, er, by the way, the suit is probably pretty ruined, too.  There was kind of a lot of blood.”

“Well, I’ll take care of that.  Don’t worry,” Tony said, smiling.  “You can come up another time and I’ll fix it for you.  Alright.  Do you think you’re ready to go back to your room or do you think you want to stay the night here in the infirmary?”

“I think I’ll be okay back in my room,” Peter said.

“I’ll walk you there,” Tony said.  He grabbed hold of Peter’s shoulder and hoisted him off of the hospital bed.  “Easy now.  Do you think you can walk back to your room?”

“Yes.  _I’m fine_ ,” Peter urged, though he tried not to sound too harsh.

Despite Peter’s point that he was perfectly fine (give or take), Tony kept one arm on Peter’s shoulder the entire way to his bedroom.  It wasn’t a long walk to his room but with how much pain Peter was in, it _felt_ like a long walk.  By the time Peter made it to his bed, his legs gave out and he awkwardly collapsed onto the soft surface.  Tony went to sit on the side of his bed, looking Peter up and down with concerned eyes.  They sat in silence for a couple of minutes, Peter getting into a more comfortable position and Tony helping a little by lifting the sheets up and readjusting his pillows just in case. 

Finally, Tony broke the silence.  “What was that about?  And _don’t_ bullshit me Parker,” Tony said.  There was no anger in his voice but there was a sort of a seriousness that Peter didn’t dare want to challenge. 

“It was a nightmare, Tony,” Peter said.  “It’s — it’s happened once before.  I just get a little freaked out.”  Peter was smart enough not to add _‘it’s nothing’_ because he knew that would just set Tony off. 

Then again, Peter didn’t even sound convinced himself.  He wasn’t sure _what_ just happened.  He hasn’t had a nightmare like that, one that reminded Peter so much of what happened a couple months ago, in a while.  It felt so vivid.  As he sat in bed, Tony staring down at him, Peter could suddenly taste how metallic the water was as Peter’s face was being forced to inhale it.  His body started throbbing and aching as though the rubble was actually crushing him like it did before; he suddenly had this awful feeling that every bone in his body was about to be crushed.

Except it wasn’t.

It wasn’t _real_.  It was all in Peter’s head and he didn’t understand why he can’t forget what happened.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Tony asked after a long second.

“Yeah.  Really.  It was just a bad dream,” Peter said.  He took a couple deep breaths.  “Honestly, I’m alright.”

Tony didn’t look convinced.  Peter didn’t want to worry Tony and Peter didn’t want to make this seem like a bigger deal than it actually was, especially when Peter still can’t get his head around it completely.  Thankfully, Tony sighed.  “Alright.  Why don’t you try to get some sleep?  We can go out for breakfast tomorrow.  You have a free period tomorrow morning, right?”

Peter nodded.  “Yeah.”

“Good.  Don’t want you missing anymore classes.”  Tony got up from where he was sitting and said, “I’ll be down the hall if you need anything.”

“Thanks Tony.”

“Goodnight Peter,” Tony said with a very serious but very wholehearted expression.

When the door was shut, Peter leaned his head back against his pillow, turning to look up at the ceiling.  Peter contemplated what happened, why it happened, why Peter thought he saw Adrian Toomes at the compound when that clearly didn’t happen.  Peter assumed it couldn’t have meant much, figured that it would just be a one-time thing.  Didn’t want to contemplate the idea that it would be anything else.  Trying his hardest to clear his head of any thoughts, Peter laid back down to sleep.  


	3. Under Her Blank Expression

_“A friend is someone who_

_gives you total freedom to be_

_yourself.”_

_~ Jim Morrison ~_

Chapter Three: Under Her Blank Exterior

When Peter woke up that Wednesday morning, he heard the sound of gentle knocking on his door.  He yawned, rolling around in bed for a second until he finally remembered what happened last night, with the nightmare and the freaking out and the telling Mr. Stark that he got shot thing.  Groaning, Peter went to look at the clock.  It was 7:30, which gave him about two hours before his first class started.  There was another knock on the door, reminding Peter that he wasn’t alone in his apartment like normal.  “Uh, one second,” Peter said as he threw the sheets off and scrambled to get the door.  It was Pepper Potts standing outside, a pretty woman with freckles splayed across her face, red straight hair that went to her shoulders and a warm smile that Peter made feel even more welcomed here, as if that was even possible.  She was a very professional woman, in charge of helping Tony run the Stark enterprise and doing the logistical, red-tape kind of work that Tony hated so much.  She wore a cream-colored pantsuit and a pair of matching heels to go with.

Peter had expected Tony.  In fact, he didn’t even realize that Pepper was here.  “Oh.  Hi.  Is everything alright?”

She smiled.  “Tony just wanted me to wake you up and tell you we’re going to breakfast.  Our treat.”

“Oh… You don’t have to do that,” Peter said quickly.  He always felt bad when Tony and Pepper gave him so much, offered Peter so many gifts (beyond the Spider-Man suit not to mention).  It wasn’t that Peter felt like he owed Tony, and Tony would _never_ make Peter feel like he did.  Still.  A relationship between two people should be give _and_ take, and sometimes Peter thought all he was doing was taking.  “Seriously.  My cafeteria at school sells cereal and stuff for cheap.  I don’t mind.”

“We do,” Pepper said, smiling.  “Go get ready.  Tony wants you to meet him in the infirmary in thirty-five minutes.”

She closed the door behind Peter without giving Peter a chance to protest further.  Sighing, Peter went to the closet where he perused the expensive selection of unworn clothes in his closet.  He pulled out a plain blue t-shirt, a plaid shirt and some jeans — everything else was just too formal for Peter to want to wear, especially with how exhausted he felt.  He went to the bathroom, which was _really_ luxurious compared to the one back in his apartment.  A steam shower.  Fresh flowers.  Clean towels.  This little scented thing that was plugged into the wall, whatever those were called.  Inside the shower were racks of different shampoos and conditioners and body soaps, some of which were made by brands that Peter didn’t even recognize.  Feeling absolutely spoiled, Peter stripped off his clothes and took a nice, long and very hot shower.

When he finished, he stepped outside in the steamy bathroom with the fan whirring loudly.  He dried off quickly, pulling on his clothes and going to his bedroom.  Peter’s backpack was still by the closet door.  Thankfully, he had everything he needed for school today so he gathered up his belongings and went to the infirmary.  Tony was washing his hands when Peter came inside.

“Morning,” Peter said, politely.

“Morning,” Tony replied.  “Let’s take a look, shall we?”

Peter took off the plaid shirt and lifted up the t-shirt.  Even after the shower (Peter probably should have been more cautious about it when he was in the shower), the bandages were still intact.  Tony peeled them back: to Peter’s relief, there was a pretty nasty looking gouge that would quickly turn into a scar in a couple of days but there wasn’t excessive bleeding and it didn’t look infected either.  Luckily, it looked like the gunshot wound was healing.  After replacing the bandages with fresh ones, this time it not being as tight and thick as before, Tony and Peter went downstairs to the living room.  Pepper was perched on one of the stools by the island, phone pressed to her ear and scratching notes on a legal pad.  When the two walked downstairs, Pepper gave a little wave before returning to her call.  While Peter went to take a seat beside Pepper, Tony opened up the fridge and pulled up a paper bag and bottle of Gatorade.

“Made you lunch for today,” Tony said, setting the bag on the island in front of Peter.

“Oh.  Thanks.  You didn’t have to do that,” Peter said.

“How many times are you going to say that before you realize I _want_ to?” Tony asked.  He pulled out his cell phone and said, “What are you feeling for breakfast?  Hash?  Crepes?  Omelets?  I know good places for that.”

Peter smiled.  “Hash sounds good.”

“Hash it is,” Tony said.  “I already have the reservation set up so we’ll leave whenever Pepper gets off the phone.”

He shot Pepper a look and she rolled her eyes.  Pepper pulled the phone away from her mouth for just a second and said, “You want to make phone calls about running this business all day because I could use a day off.”

Tony just smiled in response.  They only had to wait for a couple of minutes before Pepper was off the phone and they were getting ready to go out to breakfast.  Pepper went to grab her purse while Tony and Peter made their way to one of the older styled, more humble cars that Tony has, simply on the grounds that it could actually fit more than two people inside.  Because they were driving back into the city during rush hour traffic, it took a little longer than Peter would have liked to get to breakfast.  Fortunately, the restaurant was pretty close to Midtown so it wasn’t like Peter had to rush through breakfast.  It was a cute little breakfast café, one that had outdoor seating under a clear awning and heat lamps.  Tony had a private booth on the second floor, out of the way of people turning to stare at the local celebrity.  As though there was a special waiter completely reserved for Tony, the minute the three of them were settled in their seats, someone was over telling them about the specials of the day.

While Tony entertained the waiter about the complications of Siri vs. Friday (neither Peter nor Pepper were very interested in the conversation), Peter’s phone went off.  The notification read that it was an email from Michelle.  Decathlon practice was rescheduled for today after school.  Sighing, Peter slipped the phone back into his pocket, relieved that the conversation between Tony and the waiter was over.

When the waiter was finished taking their orders, Tony turned to look at Peter between the small glass vase of flowers and the little candles for the centerpiece.  “So, what do you have planned for after school?  Resting?”

Peter rolled his eyes.  “Probably.  Are you going to tell May?”

“Tell May about what?” Pepper asked, eyebrows raised.

Tony glanced at Peter very seriously before saying, “Nothing.  I took care of it — and if you promise to keep taking care of it, Peter, I _won’t_ tell Aunt May,” Tony said.  “So that means no rounds tonight.”  There was a second where Peter wanted to argue with Tony but then he realized they were sitting in front of Pepper in a public restaurant and also Tony pretty much had absolute authority over Peter when it comes to this kind of stuff.  One phone call to May and this whole Spider-Man deal could be over. 

Only, Pepper didn’t drop the subject.  “What is he talking about?”

“Nothing,” Peter and Tony said like two best friends trying to hide something from their parents. 

Pepper’s eyebrows narrowed.  Fortunately, the waiter came back with their drinks: coffee for the adults and orange juice for Peter.  They gave their orders and went to small talk.  Peter asked Tony a little bit about what he was doing today.  A lot inventing, tweaking new prototypes for weapons that the Avengers can use.  Tony and Peter danced around the topic of Spider-Man’s suit, very carefully given the fact that the restaurant was starting to fill up and people were being seated on the second floor with them.  When they got their food and Peter took a single whiff at the corn beef hash he ordered, he quickly realized how _absolutely_ famished he was.  The three of them had a nice, peaceful breakfast that ended too soon, especially when Peter realized he only had ten minutes to get to class.  Tony slapped down a hundred-dollar bill and a sticky note that said ‘ _keep the change’_ before the three of them hurried to the parking lot where they jumped into the car and rushed to school.

“I’ll call you tonight to check in,” Tony said as Peter grabbed his jacket and yanked his backpack out of the car.

Regardless of whether Peter said no, he knew that Tony would do it anyway.  “I have decathlon practice until 5:00 so as long as it’s after that.”

“Okay.  Have fun!” Tony said.

“Have a good day at school!” Pepper said as Peter was already running up the flight of stairs to the front of Midtown.

He made it just in time for break to be over and for the bell to ring.  He didn’t need to go to his locker, otherwise he probably would have been late to class, so Peter went straight to second period, his AP Economics class.  It was one of the more exhausting classes.  They were starting a new unit, one that was dry and uninteresting, not to mention there was a pile of reading homework assigned.  Fortunately, they got through the lecture quickly so Peter had the chance to do some of the homework for that night.  His second and third period didn’t drag on like it normally does so he was heading to lunch in a matter of no time.  Ned was already waiting for Peter by their lockers and they went to lunch.  For the entire half hour, Ned eagerly grilled Peter about his night with Tony: what they talked about, what they had for dinner, whether the compound looked any different the last time and even about what traffic was like.  At first, Peter thought he would be frustrated with Ned begging to know every detail about his night but Peter actually enjoyed talking about it.  What Peter decided to leave out was the gunshot wound.  No one besides Tony needed to know about that.

When lunch was over, Peter strolled to fourth period.  English.  Mr. Harrington was his teacher, so at the very least Peter liked him.  He was sort of an eccentric guy but he was nice.  Didn’t give the athletes special treatment (probably because he was the advisor for the Decathlon team).  Fair grader.  Never assigned too much homework, which was pretty important considering how busy Peter was.  Peter went to sit at the circular wooden table in the far corner.  There was no seating chart so Peter sat with MJ and Cindy.  Compared to Peter and MJ, Cindy was pretty preppy and pretty popular, too.  She wore a pleated skirt and a green sweater today, already pulling out her binder and pencils for class.

“Hi Peter,” Cindy said.  “Why do you think MJ canceled practice yesterday?”  Peter wasn’t surprised that the first thing Cindy wanted to talk about was Decathlon practice.  At times, he thought that all she cared about was school.

“Something about her family,” Peter said.  He glanced at the doorway, which jerked open as MJ, looking _exhausted_ , stepped inside.  “Why don’t you ask her?  She’s right there.”

“Oh, I’d never ask her about her personal life,” Cindy said, quickly.

Peter frowned.  Cindy’s a nice girl and all but she’s a lot like Betty Brant and Gwen Stacy, pretty rich and a little stuck up too.  Just because MJ was a little bit different than them doesn’t mean that MJ was a freak.  He thought about saying something to Cindy, figured that he _should_ defend his friend but Michelle came to sit into her respective chair and the opportunity was lost. 

“Hi MJ,” Peter said when she got settled.

She briefly made eye contact with Peter.  “Hi.”

“How’s your brother?” Peter asked.

Michelle turned to look at Peter.  There was a sort of surprised and puzzled look on Michelle’s face, as though she didn’t remember her and Peter’s conversation yesterday.  A second passed and Peter could see what he said register in her mind.  “Good.  Got him home last night.  And how was your night with Tony Stark?”

Peter nodded as he spoke, “It was nice.”  He could see Cindy, who was pretty invested in her cell phone, look up to listen in on Peter and MJ’s conversation.  “We talked about some upcoming projects that he had going on.  Just did some brainstorming.”

“You know, it’s so cool that you’re Mr. Stark’s intern!” Cindy exclaimed.

“Weren’t you the one bad mouthing Peter a month ago because you thought he was lying?” MJ asked.

Cindy’s face flushed bright red. “I — I…”

“It’s fine,” Peter said quickly to spare Cindy.  At the beginning of the year, Peter would have gotten a little defensive about people thinking that he was lying, especially with all the _other_ secrets Peter was holding onto.  Now, after going through the problem with the Vulture and seeing how hard Liz’s life was now and all the secrets she would have to hold onto in Oregon, Peter just stopped caring.  Peter won’t be able to change whether or not other people think he’s telling the truth.  What’s important was that _he_ knows he right.  “Doesn’t matter much to me.”

Mr. Harrington turned the projector on, signaling for conversations to finish and for students’ attention to be directed toward the teacher.  Today, the class was starting a new book, _of Mice and Men._ Before they started with their power point lecture on the background of the novel, the class went to the library to check out the novel.  Peter and MJ walked together in a comfortable silence.  They were the last couple of people to get into line, so they leaned against the library counter watching as the librarian vigorously collected student IDs and passed out the books.  “Have you read _of Mice and Men_ before?” Peter asked.  They were nearly at the front of the line.

MJ shrugged.  “Sort of.  It’s recycled plot.”

“What do you mean?” Peter asked.  “I thought the story line was pretty unique.”

“What?  Men dominating a story that’s riddled with oversexualized, dehumanized and weak-bodied women?  Sounds like I’ve heard that before,” MJ said.  Peter was a little stunned for a second.  MJ never failed to surprise him with what she’s saying.    

They got their books in a matter of minutes and went back to the classroom.  It was a short lecture on the author and the time period in which the novel was set, as well as a brief introduction of all the characters.  Fortunately, Mr. Harrington’s presentation was over quickly so Peter got the chance to get a head start on the couple of chapters that assigned for homework that day.  If Peter wasn’t Spider-Man, he probably would have hid his phone in the pages of the novel instead of doing his homework.  But now that Peter didn’t have that much free time, he made himself focus.  When the bell rang, he felt like he had a decent head start on the homework.  He packed up his bag quickly so that he could meet the Decathlon team by the junior lockers.  It was tradition that the team would go to the convenient store right down the street to get some snacks before practice.

“Are you coming?” Peter asked as he, MJ and Cindy walked to their lockers.

“I think I’m going to go set up for practice.  We’ve got a lot of stuff we need to cover and I don’t want to waste time with Flash trying to figure out how to get the chairs set up,” Michelle said.

“Oh.  I can help,” Peter said.  Tony gave Peter plenty of food for lunch so he didn’t really need anything from the convenient store.  He didn’t mind spending time with MJ, especially when Peter expected that everyone (really Flash) would be asking Peter about the internship with Tony Stark.  Being able to have a couple minutes to himself seemed like a nice thing. 

“You don’t need to,” MJ said casually.

“I want to help,” Peter said.

MJ didn’t protest.  The two of them said their goodbyes to Cindy who went to meet the rest of the decathlon team waiting by the lockers.  Peter shot Ned a quick text that said he wouldn’t be coming to the convenient store with everyone else that afternoon.  The two of them went to the gym where they normally have practice.  The gym was separate from the main building so they had to walk through the cold to get inside.  Because Midtown was such a big campus, there were two separate gyms: a new one that the basketball team used for practice and a shabby one that lower level teams would get stuck with.  That was the gym the Decathlon team practiced in.  To set up for practice, the first thing they needed to do was wheel out the tables that were put in the storage room.  Once the tables were set up, next came the stackable chairs and finally the name tags.  They were ready for practice in no time. 

“What are the name tags for?” Peter asked.  He was trying to follow the seating chart MJ put together.  He was sitting beside her on the tables at the front of the gym.

“It’s for a game,” MJ said.  She was right behind Peter, double checking the name tags that Peter was putting down.  “I’m going to talk about it at the beginning of practice.”

“Oh okay,” Peter said.  He thought about the conversation with Tony last night, the fact that he didn’t really know a lot of personal information about MJ.  _Don’t be awkward_ , he told himself.  _She’s just a friend_.  He thought about directly asking her something personal, but as he got a look at how serious her face was, Peter decided against that.  “So, are you enjoying being the captain of the team?”

MJ shrugged.  “Yeah.  It’s fun.  Gives me something to do.”  She paused for a second before asking, “Do you think I’ve been a good captain?  You know, compared to Liz?”

Peter stopped what he was doing and turned to look at MJ.  She was glancing at Peter with a nearly anxious look on her face but that was wiped clean the minute she saw that Peter was looking at her.  “Oh,” Peter said when he realized he still hasn’t answered MJ’s question yet.  “I haven’t really thought about that.  I mean, you and Liz are two different people.  It’s hard to compare how you guys run the team.”  He let himself think about it for a moment.  It’s just, Liz was so preppy, so Type-A and Michelle was still strict, no nonsense, makes sure that everyone gets their work done when necessary, but she isn’t as… _intense_ as Liz.  “You’re a good captain MJ.”

“Thanks,” she whispered.  MJ started shuffling through papers before she stopped and turned to look at Peter.  “And thanks for helping me set up.”

Peter smiled.  “It’s not a big deal.”

Because MJ didn’t have to set up the room herself, they finished pretty quickly.  To pass time before the team showed up, Peter skimmed through some of the questions that Michelle had put on flashcards.  They were supposed to be going over history questions.  Not exactly Peter’s strong suit.  He didn’t have long to study because he could hear the sound of bustling footsteps as the Decathlon team filed inside the gym.  Flash Thompson led the rest inside, carrying an energy drink and a bag of chips.  He threw his backpack onto the ground with little regard to keeping the setup of the room intact.  Then came Ian.  Betty.  Cindy.  Finally, Ned, who was holding a conversation with Gwen, walked inside.  When Ned saw Peter, he went to stand beside him.

“Got you some food,” Ned said.  He pulled one of this hummus-pretzel snacks and gave it to Peter.  “You owe me.”

“Pretty sure I paid for the pizza the other night,” Peter said slyly.

Ned frowned.  “Yeah.  Whatever.”

“Do you want some?” Peter asked.  He shoved the thing of pretzels over to Michelle, who looked at it for a second.  “It’s not poisoned.  Here?  I’ll even have the first one.”  He took a bite.  “See?  Nothing.”

“Thanks,” Michelle said again.  She took a pretzel and dipped it into hummus.  She poured over the notes in front of her, loose-leaf papers with messy scrawl in blue ink, before clearing her throat.  The other members of the decathlon team stopped with their side conversations to turn to look at their captain.  She walked out from where she was sitting and turned to glance at all the nametags.  “Can’t say I’m not impressed you guys managed to sit in the right spots.  We’ve got a lot to cover today so get off your phone Flash and we can get started.”

Flash turned to glower at Michelle.  “I wasn’t on my phone!”  The defensive tone in his voice was enough to know that he was lying.

“Oh.  I’m sorry.  I didn’t realize you were that interested in looking at your crotch,” Michelle quipped.  There were soft chuckles from the other members of the Decathlon team, though Flash looked absolutely mortified.  “So, as you know, we have another national competition coming up in May.  Mr. Harrington and I went over the rules this weekend.  We signed up for qualifiers that will take place in April in Manhattan this year.  We can have six members on the competing team for this competition.  We haven’t decided on the team yet and Mr. Harrington and I thought it would be best if we wait on picking teams until we get a feel for who’s good at what and—”

“And you’re going to pick Peter because if you don’t Tony Stark won’t buy the team new laptops,” Flash said, grinning.

Michelle turned to glare at Flash.  “Or I might pick Peter because he’s actually _smart_ enough to land an internship.  How did your application with Oscorps go again, Flash?”

The smug grin that felt like it was permanently plastered on Flash’s face wiped clean and no matter how much Peter didn’t want to make fun of Flash, he couldn’t help but laugh.  A couple months ago, after Liz moved, Flash wanted to get an internship with Oscrops Incorporation.  He kept taunting Peter about how he was going to have a _real_ internship instead of a ‘daydream fantasy’ about Tony Stark.  That being said, when Flash didn’t get accepted, he was pissed.  “Whatever, MJ.  Hey Peter, how does it feel to only have one friend who is a fifty-year-old man that pays him every time they hang out.  How was last night again, Peter?”

“Okay, okay.  Remember, we’re a team,” Mr. Harrington said.  He got up from his chair that was perched by the doorway.  He went to stand in front of the tables of students.  “Look, I know that everyone has their frustrations with Peter after he tried to ditch the team at the beginning of the year and then came back just for nationals and then ditched us again at nationals—”

“Not helping,” Peter muttered.  He still felt bad about everything that happened with the team at the beginning of the year.  In all honesty, Peter didn’t want to drop the Decathlon team like he tried to.  The other activities, marching band, robotics team, he could live without those.  Sure.  He made good friends but it wasn’t like Peter hung out with anyone on those teams.  Decathlon was different.  His freshman year, the Decathlon team was a great way for Peter to escape how stressful being Spider-Man was at times.  When he didn’t know what that radioactive spider was doing to his body, Peter could forget for just a couple of hours at practice.  Ned was on the team, and that was good.  Liz Toomes being the captain was also pretty nice.  He hated letting everyone down the way he did at nationals, and he hated knowing that if he hadn’t ditched that day what happened at the Washington Memorial may have been way different.  “I already said I was sorry about that.”

“I know.  I know,” Mr. Harrington exclaimed, “and it is just water under the bridge.  What’s important is that you’re on the team, and you’re not planning on skipping any more competitions, right?”

“Yes.  I promise,” Peter said.

Michelle cleared her throat.  “Hate to interrupt but I’m trying to run a practice right now.  Do you mind if we keep going?”

“Sorry Michelle,” Mr. Harrington said.  “The floor is yours.”

“Anyway, we’re going to wait to pick the team until later on.  Our plan for the rest of December and January is for everyone to get a little bit of exposure to all the main topics that will be covered in this upcoming competition.  At the end of January, everyone will be given a test and depending on your score, you’ll be divided into one of two groups.  One group is going to focus on STEM fields: physics, chemistry, mathematics.  You geniuses are all smart enough to know what STEM is.  The others are going to focus on humanities: history, English, philosophies.  On the competing team, three people will be chosen from the STEM field and three people from the humanities field will be picked.  That way we’ll have a well-balanced team,” Michelle said.  “That being said, I can’t be expected to lead both the STEM and humanities team.  Because, let’s face it, I’m the best at humanities, Mr. Harrington and I decided that we’ll be needing a co-captain to help me.  So, for the first part of today, we’ll be nominating and electing co-captains.  Everyone is eligible.  The floor is yours.”

She went to take her seat and gestured to the rest of the decathlon team to continue the conversation.  At first, there was a tentative silence, the other members glancing at each other as if they weren’t sure if Michelle was being legitimate when she said that the team could cast their own nominations.  Then, there was a tentative clearing of the throat before Betty Brant, a very pale and blonde girl that Peter had known probably since he first moved here said, “I think Gwen should be the other captain.” 

Gwen Stacy, a near identical twin to Betty, smiled.  “Oh, Betty.”

Michelle rolled her eyes.  She leaned forward in her chair, writing down Gwen’s name on a piece of paper and then said, “Okay.  Betty — or Gwen — explain why she should be the captain of the STEM team?”

Betty smiled.  “Besides her fantastic grades and all the AP science classes she’s taking?  I think it’s pretty obvious that Gwen has a huge commitment to the team what with all the hours she puts into practicing and studying.  Plus, she’s a positive influence both inside and outside the classroom so it only makes sense that we should have someone that can keep the team spirited as captain.”  It felt like a rehearsed speech (knowing how long Betty and Gwen have been friends, and how many leadership positions Gwen has ran for, it would make since that this _was_ rehearsed). 

Michelle narrowed her eyes.  “Uh, okay.”  She turned to look at the other team members.  “Anyone else?”

“Flash Thompson,” Jason Ionello said, hitting his friend on the shoulder.

“Oh yeah.  I’d throw bitching parties for the STEM team,” Flash said, laughing.

MJ scowled.  “All you two are proving right now is why you shouldn’t be on the competing team.  I’m fine accepting Flash as a nominee, I guess, but I want to hear a legitimate reason why.”

“How about the fact that I’m smarter than a lot of these people here.  I can send you my report card if you need me to,” Flash said.

“Why?  So, we can laugh at your gym grade?” MJ muttered. 

Flash narrowed his eyes.  Sometimes it was funny watching MJ and Flash interact given how different the two are.  Flash with his ostentatious, boastful personality who saw himself as the best of the best with no care in the world.  And Michelle, who, no matter how smart she actually is, would never say one word about her grades or her test scores or the fact that she knows about twice as much as Flash does.

“Whatever.  I bet you’re just waiting for Peter to be nominated because you’re in love with him,” Flash said.  “So, there you go.  I nominate Penis Parker—”

“ _Flash!”_ MJ and Mr. Harrington both corrected.

“ _Peter Parker_ ,” Flash repeated with a sarcastic, mocking tone, “as the STEM captain.”

There was a small smile on the corners of Michelle’s mouth but it was wiped clean almost immediately.  “Okay.  Care to elaborate?”

“Well, I mean, I’m sure Peter can call Tony Stark and he can explain for me,” Flash said.

“Oh please.  Tony Stark is obviously too busy to want to talk to a bunch of teenagers right now,” Ned said.  “But on that note, Peter must be pretty smart and pretty good at this stuff for Tony Stark to want to work with him.  Right, Peter?”

“What?” Peter said.  He glanced at his friend with a very serious look on his face.  As nice as it was for everyone to finally believe Peter when he said that he had an ‘internship’ with Tony Stark, he really didn’t want to use that fact as a way to get people to think Peter is smart.  “Look, I don’t think we should be talking about the internship with Tony Stark.  It’s not like I do any of the inventing or anything.  I normally just brainstorm and stuff.” 

“See?  Smart and humble!” Ned said.

Peter groaned.

“Plus, it’s not like we can’t say that Peter is the best at the science questions,” Cindy added.

“Yeah.  I kind of like the idea of Peter being the captain,” Gwen said.  “More than me, even.”

Peter flushed red.  He didn’t really want to be put on the spot like this right now, not when he had a lot of other things on his mind.  MJ turned to look at him.  “So, looks like the team likes Peter being the captain.  Thanks for the nomination Flash.  What a good idea.”  Flash glowered at her.  “Is that a yes, Peter?”

“Oh, um…” Peter stopped for a second.  It wasn’t that he didn’t like the idea of being co-captain of the Decathlon team, but he doesn’t want to risk screwing over the team again like he did in DC.  If he was a captain, that would mean he would have to be at every practice, prepping the STEM team probably outside of class as well and attend the captain meetings with Mr. Harrington and MJ.  That kind of time commitment might not be something that Peter has.  What if there’s another criminal like the Vulture that Peter needs to stop?  What if Peter has to go save the world with Tony Stark?  He didn’t want to let Tony or the team down.  Becoming a captain would just complicate the situation.  Still.  Peter was a _such_ a geek about all the Decathlon stuff.  And if he became captain, that would mean he could finally spend more time with MJ, which would also mean that he could finally get to know what’s under her blank exterior.

“Peter?” MJ said.  “I need an answer.”

He smiled.  “Just call me co-captain.”

There was a hint of a smile on Michelle’s face, as though she looked genuinely excited, but it vanished a second later.  She cleared her throat.  “So that’s settled.  Good.  Let’s get started with practice today, then.”

The rest of practice was pretty standard.  MJ went over the finalized dates for regionals and then the national competition, forced everyone to put it in their cell phones and then RSVP to her invite she was going to send through email tonight before next week’s practice on Tuesday about whether or not everyone could make those competitions.  She handed out a rough schedule for the next couple of months.  Peter thumbed it quietly as MJ and Mr. Harrington went back and forth between explaining all the events.  Regular practice Tuesday and Thursday all the way until nationals (technically, they needed to qualify for the competition first but MJ seemed pretty confident).  The closer it got to competition season, the more frequent the practices, which meant the more time that Peter would have to devote to practice (in turn, that also means the more times that he can let down the team).  It wasn’t all work, apparently.  They got spring break and winter break off.  There were a couple of parties, one at the beginning of both breaks, a couple more ‘retreats’ for good team bonding.  Peter was surprised that even after Liz departed, MJ was still keeping up, if not adding more, social events.

When MJ was finished going over the schedule, it was time to start actual practice.  The tables were divided into teams, five people per team.  Each person was assigned a number between one through five.  MJ would ask all the ones a question and whoever could write out the complete answer first correctly gets their team a point.  It was pretty simple and, even though Peter didn’t consider history to be his strong suit, he normally won every time it was his turn.  When the game was over (his team won without a problem), MJ gave everyone a fresh stack of flashcards she made, partnered everyone up and had people quiz each other.  Peter was exhausted by the time that the two hours of practice was up.  Together, he and Ned were packing up their backpacks — they planned on walking over to Peter’s together so that they could do homework — but MJ stopped Peter just as they were about to head to the door.

“Peter, can you stay after for a second?” MJ asked.

“Yeah sure,” Peter said.  He turned to Ned.  “Just give me a minute.”  Peter went to follow MJ, who was already walking over to Mr. Harrington.  “So, what’s up co-captain?”

“We need to start having weekly captain meetings to decide what we’re doing for upcoming practices,” MJ said.  “Mr. Harrington and I normally have these meetings Friday after school but now that I have a co-captain, it would just be the two of us.  Would that time work for you or should we reschedule?”

“How long would it take?  Just because Tony Stark normally has me been doing stuff for—”

“The internship, I know,” MJ said, “It varies.  It shouldn’t go any longer than 5:00, 5:30.  And now that we have a co-captain, it should take even shorter so you can tell Tony Stark this won’t interfere with all that top secret brainstorming you guys do.”

Surprisingly enough, Peter couldn’t detect any mockery or malice in her voice as she spoke about his internship.  Peter blinked a couple of times, thought to himself and then said, “Yeah.  That should work.”  He never really left _that_ early to do rounds, anyway.  “It would be the two of us?  Where do we meet?  What should I bring or do in advance?”

“Normally, we just have the meeting here at school,” MJ said.  “Besides a laptop I suppose, there really isn’t much for you to bring.  I can give you a full run down on what it means to be captain on Friday.  You may also want to tell Tony Stark that this Friday should be one of the longer meetings.”

“Yeah.  I mean, I’m sure he’ll understand,” Peter said, quickly.  There was a long pause in which MJ and Peter stood, staring at each other, waiting for the other person to speak.  When Peter realized that the conversation was over, he quickly said, “So, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

She looked at Peter for a second with curious eyes before she nodded.  “Yeah.  That’s it, I think.  I’ll see you tomorrow.”

There was a bit of awkward silence as the two looked at each other again. Then, a wide, nearly excited smile that spread across MJ’s face for a mere couple of seconds.  Peter returned the gesture, feeling suddenly excited about being co-captain of the team.  Peter carried this odd, unknown and somewhat surprising excitement all the way back to the apartment, where Ned and Peter told May the news.  She was enthusiastic that Peter was taking up something that wasn’t related to his alter ego, so she showered him with hugs and promised to get him his favorite dinner that night.  Tony had the same reaction when Peter told him during their video chat that night (a video chat that was partially bombarded with Ned’s gushing at the sight of an _Avenger_ so casually calling Peter up for a little chat).

“How often are these little captain meetings?  And do I need to find a new intern?” Tony said, jokingly.

“No, no!” Ned answered before Peter could say anything.  “Believe me, Spider-Man comes—”

“Ned, dude,” Peter said, embarrassed.  “The meetings are just on Fridays after school.”

Tony smiled.  “I’m just messing with you Peter.  I’m glad you found a hobby _other_ than being a masked vigilante.  You should send the dates of your Decathlon competitions to me.  Maybe I’ll swing by.”

“R — really?” Peter said.  “Because you don’t have to.  I know your busy.”

Tony smiled.  “Oh, I wouldn’t worry about it.  I’m sure that some other group out there is just as capable of saving the world if something bad happened.”

They laughed at their private joke for a couple of minutes before May called for Peter and Ned to get ready for dinner; they were going out to sushi tonight. May dropped Ned off on the way back from the restaurant, and the two of them went to the living room where they finished the night off with a movie and ice cream.  The past couple of nights that Peter has had the chance to rest were much needed.  First the night with Tony and now this.  He told himself that he just needed one more night to heal, one more night to pull himself together so that when he put on the suit again, Peter can be a hundred percent.

* * *

When it came time for Friday, Peter found himself surprisingly looking forward to the captain’s meeting that afternoon.  Thursday’s rounds were pretty low key, a thief trying to nab a bike.  There wasn’t any serious crime so Peter helped walk some college student home from a late-night shift at a restaurant and gave directions to someone who was pretty lost.  He went to school on Friday feeling pretty well-rested, got through his classes without a problem and was well on his way to meeting Michelle at the lockers.  She was already there waiting for him, head buried in the white, beat-up binder she was holding.  When Peter went to approach her, he realized that she looked more worn down, _exhausted_ than usual.

“You alright?” he asked.  He went to open up his locker and put his Spanish textbook away.

She shrugged.  “Fine,” she answered without meeting eye contact with Peter.  She tucked her binder in between her arms and said, “We have a lot to do today.  I just wanted to make sure that you didn’t have anything planned within the next couple of hours.  I’m not sure if it’ll last that long but it’s better to be safe than sorry.”

Peter shook his head.  “Nope.  All my time is for you and the team.”

MJ smiled, a real one, too.  They were planning on having the meeting in the cafeteria, which was slowly emptying out as students continued to leave school for the day.  She went to sit at one of the round tables and began pulling out her laptop and decathlon binder.  Feeling pretty unsure about what he was supposed to do, Peter followed her lead by taking out his notebook and the schedule she gave the team at practice on Tuesday.

“So…” Peter started when MJ hadn’t said anything yet.  “What do we do at these captain meetings?  Do we just plan next week’s practice?”

MJ nodded.  “Yeah, normally.”  She opened up her laptop to a google folder labeled Decathlon Team 2017-2018.  Peter watched as she shared the folder with his school email.  “Since you’re going to be our STEM captain, this means you’ll probably end up being on the competition team, not to mention you are the best at science.  The competition dates work for you, right?”

“Yeah,” Peter said.  “I’ll be there.”

“It would be favoritism and probably morally wrong if we gave ourselves automatic spots on the competition team so we would at least have to take some of the tests that Mr. Harrington would come up with to decide who the best candidates are.  You’ll still need to study, of course, but you’re smart.  I’m sure you’ll be fine,” MJ said.  “A lot of being the team captain means that you decide what topics are important and needs to be studied the most, and what topics are the least important and needs to be studied less.  The organization running this next competition sent out lists of all the potential topics that could be asked at regionals and nationals.” 

She handed Peter a small packet with bullet points of topics organized by subject.  American revolution.  Pre-revolutionary policies.  The Cold War.  The Constitution.  Molecular biology.  Evolution.  Primatology.  Weird subjects that Peter himself had never even heard of.  He turned to look at Michelle.  “Seems like a pretty hefty content load if you ask me,” he said.

MJ grimaced.  “I know, which means that we really need to be efficient with our time at practice if we want to be successful.  Two practices a week may not be enough for the people that we have.  I figured that you and I should craft a couple of practice tests that cover all the subjects.  That way we can figure out what subjects our team is weaker at and what subjects they’re stronger at.  I’ve already started working on the first one.  It’s finished.  I just need you to go over some of the answers with me.”  She clicked on the folder icon and pulled out two documents, one that was labeled _Practice Test One_ and _Practice Test One Answer Key._ She scrolled through the practice test: it was already a couple pages long.  The questions were thoughtful, easy to understand but with answers that would even trip Peter up.  The language perfectly emanated how the questions were phrased in actual competitions.  The answer key was a replica of the practice test, only the correct answer out of the five multiple choice options was highlighted.  “What do you think?” she asked.  She sounded almost nervous as she asked for Peter’s opinion.

Peter blinked a couple of times.  “This is really good,” he said, quickly.  “Really good.”

Her cheeks flushed pink.  “It’s nothing.  It’s not like I’m busy with an internship or anything,” she said, prodding Peter in the ribs.

Peter turned to look at MJ and he was surprised when he saw that she was smiling.  “Was that a joke?  Did you just make a joke?”

The smile on her face disappeared quickly.  “No.  Definitely not.”

A part of Peter wanted to poke fun at Michelle again, keep this sort of levity in the conversation, only Peter thought it’d be best to take a more serious approach to his first captain’s meeting.  “Right.  What questions do you want me to look at?”

“There’s just a couple.  Mostly the science ones,” she admitted. 

MJ scrolled through to the second page to show Peter a question related to biology.  “ _According to the article,_ ‘ _Jurassic Genome’, what is the ‘junk DNA?’”_ Peter read aloud.  He read over the answers.  “It’s B, right?  _DNA that does not code for proteins_.”  He double checked the answer key, anyway.  He was right.

“Yeah.”

“That’s good.”  Peter read over the other options and then said, “My only comment is that D seems like kind of a throwaway answer.  Instead of talking about stem cells, you could say that junk DNA are genes that code for mutations.  That way the answer still has something to do with what it codes for.  It’ll throw more people off.  Do you mind if I change it?”

“Go ahead,” MJ said.

Peter did quickly.  He scrolled through the practice test a little bit more.  “Wow.  Did you write all these questions yourself?”

“Half and half.  Some of them I got from the released videos of the previous competitions.  At least for the topics that have been covered over the past few years.  There are some new topics that I came with questions for, though,” MJ said.  “And I changed some of the multiple-choice options, too.  Is it — does it seem okay?”

“Is it okay?” Peter repeated, incredulous.  “This is _amazing_.  You must really care about this…”

“Oh… yeah, this team is really important to me.  I want us to have as successful of a year as we did when Liz was captain,” MJ said.  “And, I’m kind of relying on you to help me because this is _a lot_ for one person to do by themselves.  You can’t let the team down this time, okay?  Not when you’re this important to the team.”  He looked at MJ’s face.  It wasn’t like she was asking Peter to save her life or anything or that he needed to cover her ass for some huge mistake, but Peter could tell that she was legitimately asking for his help and his time and his attention and his everything.  It wasn’t like Liz didn’t expect for Peter to have a lot of commitment to the team last year or at the beginning of this year.  With MJ, however, it was just a different sort of commitment.  It was like it was a personal promise to _her_ , not just to the team. 

Peter tried to act nonchalant as he answered.  “Of course.  I promise I won’t bail out on the team.”

MJ bit down her lip.  Something was still bothering her.  “It’s just you promised Liz that you wouldn’t bail out, too.”

Peter grimaced.  As much as it felt like that was kind of a low blow from Michelle, she _had_ a point.  “I know I screwed up at the beginning of the year but it’s different now.  Mr. Stark and I talked things out.  We have everything sorted through this time around.  I promise I won’t bail out on the team the way I did last year.”

MJ nodded a couple of times.  “Good.  And I’m holding you to that promise, Peter.”

Fortunately, the awkward conversation that Peter figured would happen eventually was over and they could spend the rest of their captain’s meeting on the practice test.  They went over each question on the first practice test, correcting some of Michelle’s grammar, double checking to make sure that the answers on the key are correct and revising some of the answers. 

“Geez,” Peter said, glancing at the time.  The meeting went all the way up to 5:00.  “I’m starving.  You want to get something to eat?  There’s a nice little Mexican place pretty close by.”

She looked up at Peter, this weird, slightly confused look in her face.  Peter thought that he said something wrong, that he was pressuring her into spending time with him and that she thought it was intimidating or out of the ordinary for Peter to want to hang out with her.  Her face flushed as she stammered out the answer, “Oh.  Um, look, I don’t really have any money to get dinner.  But if you want to go, I’d — I’d be glad to go with you,” she said. 

Peter thought that was an odd response, too.  “It’s okay.  I can spot you some money.  I’m sure you’ll be buying dinner eventually at one of these meetings.”  MJ shook her head again.  Peter couldn’t help but watch her with curious eyes.  She looked so _uncomfortable_ with the offer, like it was some crime for her to let him buy her dinner.  Was it even that?  Was Peter saying something wrong?  Did it seem like Peter was coming on too strong?  He was just trying to be a friend to MJ, ask her to dinner, spend some time with her and actually get to know his co-captain after going to school with her for a year and a half.  “Seriously.  It’s not a big deal.”

Finally, MJ nodded her head.  “Okay.  That’d be really nice.”

“It’ll be fun,” Peter said, chuckling.  He tried not to sound too relieved that MJ actually took him up on his offer.

They packed up their backpacks in silence.  The Mexican restaurant Peter wanted to go to wasn’t a far walk.  Just a couple of miles.  It was a pleasant walk, too.  Since it was a Friday afternoon, it was a little busier than usual, but the streets were alive.  It seemed like more vendors were out and about, trying to sell off the latest edition of a magazine.  Peter passed his favorite hot dog vendor from his youth, one that Uncle Ben and Aunt May took him to a lot after school, though Peter hasn’t been there since Ben died.  They reached the Mexican restaurant quickly.  It was a small little place painted with bright greens and oranges but had very dim lighting and an odd musky scent that permeated throughout the entire establishment.

“Have you ever been here before?” Peter asked.  He already had an idea of what he wanted but he didn’t want to rush Michelle into ordering.

“No,” MJ said.  “I don’t really go out for food all that often.”  Peter glanced in her direction.  She was looking at the menu skeptically, lips stretched into a subtle frown.  “Do you have any good recommendations?”

He shouldn’t have been taken aback by the question, but he still was.  Peter turned to look at the menu quickly before returning his gaze to MJ.  “Uh, I mean, it depends on what you like.  Do you want something spicy or mild?  Do you like burritos or tacos?  Enchiladas or—”

“I’m not picky,” MJ interrupted.  She bit down on her bottom lip, eyes trailing the menu.  “What do you think of the chicken enchilada?”

“I think that’s an excellent choice,” Peter chuckled.

He went to the register to give the cashier his and MJ’s order.  The man working the register, a short guy that seemed to stare at everyone walking around the place with extreme suspicion, handed Peter a number and he and MJ went to take their seats in the back.  It was near the window, which clearly seemed to be a good decision because Michelle comfortably scooted into the booth and peered outside.  She watched the bustling street life of New Yorkers hurrying across the side walk and cars slowly creeping along the road.  Something about the way that she looked so fascinated as she stared out the window reminded Peter so much of how he felt (and probably looked) whenever Peter was sitting up on the ledge on top of a high rooftop and looking down to watch the night life.

Their food came shortly after: a nice-smelling enchilada, a steaming hot taco for Peter and two cokes.  They ate quietly, and the awkwardness and silence seemed to persist throughout the first part of their meal.  Peter swallowed a bit of taco, feeling determined to attempt at a conversation.  “So, other than working on stuff for the Decathlon team and doing homework and reading, what do you do in your free time?  Do you have a job?  Any secret hobby that I don’t know about?”

MJ shrugged.  Really, it was a matter of whether or not Peter was taking the conversation too far.  “I like to draw.  Sometimes.  I’m not — I’m not very good at it.”  She looked down at her food, clearly embarrassed.

“Come on.  I bet you’re really talented.  Do you have any drawings you could show me?” Peter asked.

“Not on me,” MJ said.

She opened her mouth for a second but then closed it again.  Peter and MJ went back to eating their food in silence, though he knew deep down that there was something that was bothering her.  “Is everything alright?”

Color was rising in her cheeks; Peter can’t even remember the last time he has seen Michelle blush this much.  “Oh, it’s just…” she stabbed her enchilada with her fork before saying, “I have this art show… _thing_ … coming up this weekend.  Tomorrow.  It’s pretty small.  I’ve been taking classes every Saturday morning.  It only costs five dollars to get in and the money goes to the art programs in local school districts.  It’s just — you don’t have to go but…”

“No, no,” Peter said quickly.  He grinned, surprised and also _happy_ that Michelle invited him.  “I would love to go.  What time does it start?”

“It starts at 7.  I know it’s pretty late so your internship—”

Again, Peter knew that MJ wasn’t saying that to be malicious.  “No.  No, I’ll be there.  For sure.”  _He’ll just start his rounds later that night._ He was thinking about hanging around the Empire State University campus since he knew all the college students will be partying that night and he wants to make sure that everyone’s safe.  “Text me the address.  Do you mind if I bring Ned?  I’m sure he would enjoy a night out.  Probably needs to be cultured, too.”

“That would be great,” MJ said.  “So, how many hours do you spend on the Stark internship per week?”

That was a rapid change of subject, but Peter recognized the fact that MJ was relieved for the conversation to shift from her to him.  “Decent amount.  Normally, I’m doing something every night for him for a couple of hours.  It’s hard work and it requires a lot of time and energy, but it’s worth it in my eyes.  I’m doing something that I’m really enjoying so…”

“And this week?  It’s just, it’s seems like you’re more well-rested than usual,” MJ said.

“Mr. Stark gave me the week off,” Peter said.

“Do you typically work with Tony?  Or is this week just a one off?”

“It depends,” Peter admitted.  “Normally, he gives me a project or I find one myself and I handle it on my own.  At the beginning of the year, I worked with Happy Hogan, one of Mr. Stark’s assistants, a lot more but after I, uh, well, after I figured out something pretty important for Tony, I’ve been working with the man himself.”  It was weird having to talk to someone other than Ned about the ‘internship’, but he felt like he was dancing around the truth pretty effectively.  He smiled.  “I, uh, I know that I’ve had to give up a lot for the Stark internship but I feel like I’m really helping people, you know.  I feel like I’m making a difference.”

Peter glanced at MJ when he was finished.  She was staring at Peter, her brown eyes gazing toward his own.  “That’s cool… I guess,” she said.  “Stupid teenager language.  I don’t think I’ve ever said something like that before.”  

Peter laughed, whole-heartedly.  He was surprised with how _open_ and comfortable MJ seemed to be with Peter, and how he felt the exact same way with her.  They were finished eating shortly after.  Peter offered to walk MJ home but she vehemently refused Peter’s offer.  Not thinking much of it, the two of them said goodbye and Peter went back to his apartment where he ran into Aunt May, who was just coming back from work.  They settled into the kitchen, tossing coats onto the couch and kicking shoes off.  As May went to the kitchen to make herself some dinner, Peter brought up MJ’s art exhibit.

“That sounds fun,” May said.  “Do you want me to go with you?  Or is that lame?  Are you trying to impress this girl?”

“What?  No.  We’re friends.  I, uh, I was going to ask Ned to go with me but I’ll need a ride,” Peter said. 

May smiled.  “Oh, my little boy has a girlfriend.  Of course I’ll drive you.”

“Wait, May, she’s not my girlfriend!” Peter exclaimed.

“That’s what teenagers always say,” she said with a sly grin on her face.  “But, I’ll drive you.  Don’t worry.  It’s Michelle, right?  The co-captain? 

“Yes, yes!  God, May, you’re embarrassing me,” Peter said, burrowing his hands in his face.

“She’s pretty.  I’m glad you’re moving on since Liz,” May said.  Leave it to May to know about the girl Peter had crush on at the beginning of the year.

“Needed to,” Peter said.  “She moved to Oregon, May.”

“Are you nervous about going to your girlfriend’s art show?”

Peter groaned.  “We’re just friends.  We’re — we’re just hanging out, alright.  It’s not a big deal.  I’m going to go to my room to get some shut-eye.  Love you, May,” Peter said as he quickly made his way to his bedroom.

Only, he did feel nervous _and_ excited, of course, about tomorrow night.  It wasn’t a date or anything, and it wasn’t like Peter was going because he had a crush on her.  They were friends.  Peter wanted to spend time with MJ, get to know her better especially when Peter honestly didn’t think there were a lot of people that _wanted_ to get to know her.

All Peter could do was hope that MJ felt the same way about him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you a ton for reading! Hope you enjoyed!


	4. Guarded Conversations

_“One of the most beautiful_

_qualities of true friendship is to_

_understand and to be understood”_

_~ Lucius Annaeus Seneca ~_

Chapter Four: Guarded Conversations

Peter got a good night’s sleep Friday night.  Beyond a smooth night of being Spider-Man (and a good job on the cops that night too for stopping all the vandals trying to graffiti a bunch of slurs on the side of Midtown), Peter slept dreamlessly — at the very least, he didn’t have any nightmares.  He went to check out the wound on his abdomen to make sure that it still healing properly.  Sure enough, the new bandage Peter used to dress himself Friday morning was clean.  All that was left was a pretty nasty gouge, but one that Peter recognized to be harmless, a little nick on his abdomen that he wouldn’t have to worry about anymore.  He threw the bandages away and took a quick shower, thinking to himself about what needed to be done.  Send in the Spider-Man suit to Tony was a priority.  After Peter explained to Tony how _trashed_ Peter’s suit was with the blood and the tearing from the gunshot, Tony promised that he would fix the suit over the weekend.  Happy Hogan was supposed to come by between 10-12 this morning so Peter just had to sit around and wait.  Probably should do some homework.  Maybe pick up his room a little bit (that was low priority).  Look over the practice tests as per MJ’s request.  And get ready for her art exhibit.

Peter wasn’t an art enthusiast.  He barely understood the difference between cool tones and warm tones.  It was just, he was _really excited_ to get see MJ.  Surprised with how excited he was.  He did a little bit of research on the program that she signed up for: the classes she was referring to was connected to a competition hosted by a business owner of a real estate company.  The owner, some rich woman, was looking for some new artists.  Cheap classes taught by a local artist, an automatic spot in an art show and if the business owner liked the artwork, it would be hung at some of the open houses.  It wasn’t like MJ expected Peter to do serious research on the program but he was interested in getting to know more about what she was involved in.  Plus, Peter didn’t screenshot the snapchat MJ sent him of the address and he felt too embarrassed (who knows why?) to ask again.  Peter already talked to Ned about going to the art show with him; though a little surprised as to why Peter was so interested in going, Ned agreed instantly. 

The sound of knocking on his door caught Peter’s attention and he went to open it.  May was outside the door, smiling, her glasses perched onto her curly hair.  “Breakfast is ready,” she said.  She glanced around Peter’s bedroom, eyeing the piles of dirty clothes and stacks of textbooks strewn across the ground.  “And clean up your room.  It’s filthy.”

Peter laughed as he followed May out into the kitchen.  It smelled of waffles, chocolate sauce and _lots_ of strong coffee.  “Did you make scrambled eggs?”

May sighed.  “Too busy making your pancakes.  You ever make scrambled eggs before?”

She set the milk and cartoon in front of him, and Peter went to grab hold of it.  “I’m a sophomore in high school.  Of course I’ve made scrambled eggs before,” Peter said, indignant.  He got out a plastic Tupperware container, cracked some eggs, poured a little milk and started whisking it together.  “Do you want some?” he asked as May as she poured herself a cup of coffee.  “Oh, and can you pour me some?”

She frowned.  “Your fifteen.  You shouldn’t be having this much coffee,” she muttered but she poured him a cup anyway.  “And you’re cooking five eggs so I’m assuming part of it’s for me.”

“You know how hungry I get in the morning,” Peter said, chuckling.

They had a pleasant breakfast.  Lots of warm, fresh food that Peter practically inhaled.  Every time he ate May’s food, he really had to question why he ever wanted to eat out when he felt like nothing really beat a good home-cooked meal. 

“Let me,” Peter said when May went to go clear the dishes after breakfast.

“Wow.  Is that my teenage boy growing up and being a responsible adult?” May quipped.

“Don’t get it used to it,” he said as he scrapped his and May’s plates and set it in the dishwasher.  “This is a one-time thing I promise.  You know Happy’s stopping by, right?  To get the suit?”

May, who was in the middle of covering the bowl of leftover chocolate sauce with aluminum foil, turned to look at Peter with narrowed eyes.  These kinds of conversations, ones that were directly related to Spider-Man, was something that Peter and May had a mutual agreement to never really have.  They talked about it when it _had_ to be talked about, but it wasn’t something that Peter or May would feel all that comfortable bringing up in everyday conversation.  Not when Peter knew May wasn’t completely okay with it, and not when Peter felt so insecure about having these sorts of serious conversations with his aunt.  That being said, it was kind of a relief when May went back to covering up the leftovers.  _Act nonchalant.  It was normal conversation._ That was their mantra.

“Why is Happy coming over?” she asked.  Happy and May only met a couple of times.  Normally if Peter needed to get to the compound, Happy would be the person to pick him up.  It wasn’t like May detested Happy, nor was she as angry with him as she was with Tony when she found out about Peter’s little secret.  Still.  Happy knew a lot more about Peter’s secret life than May did, and she held that against him. 

“My suit is — er… _malfunctioning_.  Tony just needs to take a look at it,” Peter said.

“Your suit has been malfunctioning all this week and you’ve still been using it?” May said, frowning.

Peter didn’t expect that curveball.  “Really, May.  It’s fine.  One of the features in the suit isn’t working all the great.  Honestly.  It isn’t something that’s completely important for the suit to function.”  Of course, Peter wasn’t going to tell May the truth.  Even after May became aware of that part of Peter’s life, he knew that she wasn’t going to learn about everything.  Not about how many run-ins Peter had with the cops when he first became Spider-Man.  Not about how many times some low-level perp pulled out a gun on him.  Not about how many nightmares Peter relived and relived over and over again since what happened with the Vulture.  And surely not about the fact that he was just _shot_ in the chest the other night.  He was better.  Healed.  If it had been worse, if it had gotten infected or if Peter hadn’t been able to stitch it up the way he did (regardless of how poor of a job it was), he would have told her.  But that didn’t happened, which meant that there was no need to worry her.

Apparently, Peter hadn’t been talking for a while, and May noticed.  She went to his side, eyes staring into his as though she was trying to read his mind.  “Is everything alright, Peter?” she demanded.  Though May was trying to be sweet and concerned, Peter could detect the edge to her voice — like she knew something wasn’t sitting right and she was just baiting Peter to see if he would lie. 

He rolled his eyes.  Decided to take sarcasm instead of trying to level up with her with an even tone.  “Seriously May, chill.  Everything’s fine.  I promise.  I just want to fix the suit.”

“You would tell me if something was wrong, right?”

Again with the guilt.  “Of course,” Peter said.  “I’m going to go get some homework done.  Can you let Happy in when he rings?”

May nodded, reluctantly.  “Yeah.  Sure.”

Peter went to kiss his aunt on the forehead before going back to his room.  Peter wasn’t lying when he said he was going to do homework.  It was piling up, becoming another stressor in Peter’s life that he really doesn’t want to deal with.  He has the free-time on his hands, an obvious rarity and Peter doesn’t want to squelch the opportunity that he has.  Doing homework was always a drag though.  Playing music, turning on Netflix in the background, little distractions that made doing mindless homework a little bit easier.  The only homework he really needed to focus on was his trig and Spanish homework.  Halfway through the first page of a trig packet was enough to make Peter’s brain hurt, however.  It was a relief when Peter heard the doorbell, a distinctive sharp _bringgg!_ that made him jolt.  He grabbed the paper bag in which Peter hid the suit and scrambled into the living room.

Sure enough, Happy Hogan was standing awkwardly in the main foyer.  The three-piece suit and earpiece looked staunchly out of place beside May’s loose, well-worn and well-loved jeans and a sweatshirt.  In the very early development stage of Peter’s time as Spider-Man, Happy Hogan was the on-call guy that took care of Peter’s problem.  He was the person that kept watch on Peter’s tracker, monitored it to make sure that Peter wasn’t doing any serious damage and then when Peter actually needed help, shot Peter down without giving him a second thought.  That being said, Peter didn’t hold anything against Happy.  It made sense why Happy wasn’t quick to trust Peter.  He was a fifteen-year-old kid who bugged Happy day in and day out about little feats that Spider-Man did.  Plus, when Peter really did have a problem that Happy needed to know about, Ned was the person who called.  Some teenager who proclaimed himself as Peter Parker’s best friend.  Tony wasn’t as forgiving as Peter was, not when Happy had to give his boss a call about why his young protégée needed to be treated at a hospital and why Coney Island was burning down.  Peter did what he could to make sure that Happy didn’t get into much trouble.

Hard to stop Tony when he was on a rant, though.

“Hey Happy,” Peter said.  “Thanks for stopping by.”

Happy gave Peter a smile, but Peter could tell it was nothing but forced politeness out of a desire to keep the tension to a minimum.  “That it?”  Happy gestured toward the paper bag.

“Yeah,” Peter said.  “Do you want something to drink?  Water?  Coffee?  Uh, juice?”

Happy shrugged.  “No.  No, that’s okay.  Thank you.  I should probably get going, anyway.  Mr. Stark wants this back as soon as possible.”

“When can I expect it?” Peter asked.  “Tonight?  Tomorrow morning?”

Happy pulled the spider-suit out to inspect it.  Not expecting Happy to do that, Peter practically lunged at the suit to hide it from May, who was just walking into the living room.  “What?  What?” Happy exclaimed, jerking backwards at Peter’s sudden jump.

“Nothing.  It’s just… I thought I saw a spider on the suit,” Peter stammered. He glanced in May’s direction.  Fortunately, she didn’t seem like she was listening.  Just minding her own business.  Putting dishes away.  Pouring herself another cup of coffee.  Peter leaned into Happy’s ear and said, “She doesn’t know about the… just don’t let her see the suit.”

It was by no means a command.  It was a plead, one that Peter was really hoping Happy would agree to.  There was something very serious look in Happy’s expression and then he sighed.  He took a good look at the suit, but kept it concealed in the bag.  Judging by his facial expression, Happy was pretty surprised with the amount of damage done to Peter’s suit.  “God.  Did you get splattered with blood?  Look at this thing.  And it smells like… Jesus, kid.”

Peter grinned.  “You should smell the boy’s locker room.”

Happy rolled his eyes.  “With this kind of damage…”  He didn’t answer automatically, and the expression on his face looked as like he was trying to do some kind of calculation in his head.  “I’ll probably drop it off tomorrow.  What time will be best?”

Peter didn’t answer at first.  It would be another unscheduled night off.  He was fully healed, so he didn’t have his health as an excuse.  And another night off wasn’t what Peter planned, especially on a Saturday night when all the college kids would be out partying and when the city gets just a little crazier.  Then again, Peter always had the homemade suit.  He could do with that for a night, and the concoction used to make the webs isn’t that difficult.  “Yeah, that should work,” Peter said, remembering that he needed to actually respond to Happy.  “Same time as today?”

“Fine.  Mr. Stark will call if anything changes,” Happy said. 

“You’re leaving already?” May asked.  She turned to stand next to her nephew.

“Yeah.  Mr. Stark has me on a pretty strict schedule so it looks like I’m going to have to take off.”  Happy glanced at his watch (whether this was to sell his story or because he really was on a tight schedule).  “And I’m just on time.  I’ll see you tomorrow with this in _perfect_ condition.”

“Bye Happy,” May said as she closed the door behind him.  “That man is wound so tightly.”

“Who?  Him or Mr. Stark?” Peter joked as he went back to his bedroom.

* * *

The rest of his day before he was going to meet Ned to go to the art show was well spent.  Peter powered through his homework until he thought his head was going to burst before getting through the practice test (MJ was supposed to be busy this whole week so Peter promised to take on the responsibility of finalizing the answer key and the questions).  The brunt of the work was already done so all that was left was editing.  Feeling pretty good about his day, Peter started to sift through his closet looking for the right attire to tonight’s event.  Tonight wasn’t a black-tie event by any means but it was supposed to be more formal than just jeans and a t-shirt.  Feeling thoroughly unsure, Peter left it up to May to pick out his clothes: some nice-looking sweater and khakis.

“Are you sure this is what people wear to an art show?” Peter asked.

May shrugged.  “It’s not like I go to art shows that often,” May admitted.  She smoothed out the shoulder of Peter’s sweater and took a step back.  “I’m pretty sure you’ll fit right in.”  Peter didn’t argue with his aunt, especially because he knew he didn’t have any better alternatives for clothing.

Ned was dropped off at Peter’s and May’s about half an hour later.  They wanted to get food before the art show so May drove them to a family-owned, local pizzeria that put all the chain pizza places to shame.  Because traffic was a little worse than they expected, they had to hurry through eating so that they didn’t show up to the art show too late.  Fortunately, the little studio that the show was happening at was a couple blocks away from the pizzeria so instead of making May try to drive through traffic (and taking a nasty left turn out of the parking lot), Ned and Peter walked.  The studio was at the center of a busy intersection, between restaurants and a grocery store and antique shops.  All the buildings seemed so vintage, so out-of-place, and it reminded Peter of MJ herself.

“Is that it?” Ned asked.

Peter looked to where Ned was pointing: a one-story building that had a small line waiting by the front door.  A guy probably no older than Peter and Ned was standing by the front door, handing out pamphlets.  Beside him, an even younger girl who shared the same frizzy red hair as the boy, was collecting money and stamping everyone’s hand.  Right above them was a sign that said, _“Art Musings_ ”.  “I would assume,” Peter said as he fished out his own five dollars and went to stand in the line.  After paying and getting a stamp and pamphlet, they were ushered inside.  It was surprisingly spacious.  Small orange lights beamed over the various types of art: paintings, pottery, sculptures, glassware.  Everything Peter saw he thought was beautiful and way beyond his own artistic ability. 

“The map says MJ should be…” Ned paused, eyes scanning the pamphlet.  “That way.”  He pointed to the left.

They walked past a couple of painters, slowly enough so that Peter and Ned could appreciate everyone’s artwork.  For a small little, local art show, this place seemed pretty lively.  Quiet chatter filled the air, just loud enough to hear each other over the soft hum of blues music.  It didn’t take long for the two friends to find where MJ was stationed.  She was leaning against the cream-colored wall, hands uncomfortably pressed into a ball as she gave passive, half-hearted smiles to the people passing by.  She wore a pleated gray skirt with small little green and red flowers, a thick maroon sweater and a white-collared shirt underneath.  Her hair was pulled into a messy bun that sat on top of her head.  Peter didn’t think of himself as shallow by any means, and especially didn’t think that what someone wears should dictate someone’s beauty, but he has to admit that when he got a good look at MJ, he felt his breathing hitch.  She looked so… _different_.  Good different.  And the more Peter looked at her, the more and more he came to the conclusion that she was just so unique-looking.  Quirky, odd, whimsical.  _Beautiful_.

“Uh, hey, MJ…” Peter said.  He took a step toward her, Ned following suit. 

MJ finally made eye contact with Peter, and her eyes went wide.  “Oh.  You actually came.  I wasn’t sure if you…”

Peter smiled.  “Of course I would come.  I said I would, didn’t I?”  The conversation faded for a second as Peter and MJ stared back at each other.

“You’re welcome for coming, too,” Ned piped in.

MJ turned to Ned and nodded, “Yeah.  Thanks…”  She cleared her throat, quickly, and turned to her three paintings.  “So… what do you think?  Do you like it?”

Peter didn’t answer at first, turning to get a good look at her artwork.  Given how often Peter is around MJ, he has seen a couple of sketches.  In detention at the beginning of the year, Peter distinctively remembered MJ sitting there sketching _him_ as he was slumped in his chair, thinking long and hard about the fact that he lost the suit.  Because Peter was so caught up in his own head at that point in time, Peter never took a hard look at her artwork.  Now, he could get a good look.  Her paintings were so different compared to the art around her.  To MJ’s left were ceramics: a _huge_ red vase at the center of the artist’s display.  On her right: another painter who utilized bright colors and depicted countryside scenery that made Peter feel warm and chirpy inside.  MJ’s artwork by no means made Peter depressed, but it evoked stronger, more genuine emotions compared to the other painter’s work. 

MJ used darker colors, blue tones, grays, blacks, a couple peaches for skin tones, but nothing vastly bright.  One painting was of a dark room, brown-wooden floors and almost black walls.  Crouched in a small corner was a young girl.  She was balled together, knees pressed against her chest, eyes just barely peaking above her knees.  Dressed in a little pink dress.  What Peter found most impressive was the look in the girl’s eyes.  The terror.  The disappointment.  The _pain_.  The second painting was filled mostly with a hand, dark-skinned, grasping what looked like a very tattered teddy-bear, the black beady eyes of it staring directly into Peter’s.  A leg of the teddy bear was patched up with what looked like denim and one of the arms was ripped.  In last picture, one that had a little bit more levity to it compared to the others, was of Coach Wilson.  He was sitting behind a wooden desk, hands pressed against his creased forehead with a sort of uncomfortable and confused look on his face.

“They’re…” Peter struggled for the right word.  He thought beautiful or amazing were too clichéd.  Nothing seemed to show how much Peter _loved_ her work.

“Peter’s speechless.  Does that sum it up for you?” Ned offered.

Peter glanced at Ned, to MJ and then finally back at her paintings.  “Yeah.  That — that sums it up pretty well.  It’s — it’s unbelievable how talented you are _._ ”

MJ’s smile stretched from ear to ear.  Happiness didn’t seem to properly describe the way that MJ looked right now.  “Clearly you haven’t seen a lot of artwork,” she whispered, eyes dropping to her feet.  “But — but that means a lot.”

“And you even drew Coach Wilson!” Peter said when he felt thoroughly embarrassed and thoroughly ready to change the subject.  “It’s so… realistic.  You got facial expressions and everything.  Do you sketch everyone you know?”

“Just the ones in crisis,” MJ said, chuckling.

“Does Coach Wilson know you have a painting of him?” Ned asked.

“Not like he’d notice,” MJ said.  Pretty brutally honest of her to say, but Peter figured she was correct.  Coach Wilson was by no means unintelligent.  Just utterly unobservant, and evidently that was something MJ exploited. 

“And what about the other paintings?” Peter asked.  “These are… kind of dark,” he admitted.  “But I like them, of course.  Just — just wondering what gave you the inspiration.”

MJ shrugged.  “I don’t know.  I was just looking at some old artwork online and I stumbled across some of Picasso’s Blue Period work.  Led me to this.”

Peter nodded.  It wasn’t like he was completely lost when it came to artwork.  He knew who Pablo Picasso was… not necessarily what the Blue Period meant.  “Cool,” he said, trying hard not to sound embarrassed.  He looked around for a second, glancing at some of the other artwork before saying, “How’d you find out about this art show?”

“I work at the convenient store just a couple blocks down the street and one of the art teachers came to promote the competition,” MJ said.

“I didn’t know you had a job,” Peter said.

“There’s a lot of things you don’t know about me, Peter.  And I’m sure that goes both ways, too,” MJ muttered.  She paused for a second, letting herself take a deep breath before saying, “You guys should check out some of the other artwork here.  Scope out the competition for me.”

“Sure thing,” Peter said.  He thought about walking away right then but a part of him made him turn and add jokingly, “Haven’t seen much competition yet, though.” 

Peter and Ned walked the perimeter of the art show, pausing at each artist to examine their work briefly.  Nothing quite stood out to Peter the way that MJ’s work did.  Nothing quite evoked the same reaction and emotion and _adoration_ that Peter felt when saw his friend’s paintings.  Not to say that the other artists weren’t good.  They were.  Everyone he passed was incredibly talented, just not as much as MJ.

“I can’t believe you were just flirting with Michelle,” Ned said, laughing and hitting Peter lightly on his shoulder.

“What are you talking about?” Peter asked.

Ned glowered at Peter.  “Oh.  I don’t know ‘haven’t seen much competition, MJ.  Oh.  You’re so talented MJ.’  You and I are _best friends_.  Trust me, I know when you’re flirting with someone.”

Peter didn’t respond.  He let himself think instead, decide whether or not Ned was really saying something accurate.  It wasn’t like Peter was trying to flirt with MJ.  Flirting wasn’t really Peter’s thing, and doing it successfully definitely wasn’t either.  When Liz was around, Peter didn’t dare flirt with her, not when older guys were already doing that.  So why was Peter being so… _daring_ if he really was trying to flirt?

“I don’t know man.  I was just talking to her,” Peter said.

“You _like_ her,” Ned joked, poking Peter in the shoulder.  “Peter and MJ sitting in a tree—”

“Okay, okay, okay!” Peter said, holding his hands up.  He spared just a second to look in MJ’s direction, took a second longer than he normally would to take in her tentative, sweet, shy smile as she stared on at the people passing by.  Took a second longer to study the streak of blue and silver in her curly hair, the color that brought out the brown in her eyes.  When Peter realized he was staring at MJ longer than he had intended for, Peter cleared his throat.  “So, I think she’s… so I like hanging out with her.  What’s wrong with that?  MJ’s cool if you let yourself get to know her.”

“It’s just she’s kind of guarded,” Ned said.  “I’ve tried getting to know her before and she just puts a bunch of walls up.  You’re one of the few people, maybe even the _only person_ , who really has gotten to know her.  You should ask her out.”

That took Peter by surprise.  Talking to MJ was one thing.  Getting to know MJ was one thing.  Asking MJ out on a date was something completely different, something that Peter wasn’t sure if he was ready for.  He always wanted to go on a proper date with someone, not like the homecoming thing that happened with Liz at the beginning of the year.  _That_ was a disaster.  Leaving someone in the middle of a dance _was a disaster_.  And knowing how busy Peter will be with being a co-captain now for the Decathlon team as well as doing rounds almost every night, he can’t risk abandoning MJ on a date.  If what Ned said is true, how Peter was one of the few people that MJ really opens up to, that would make it a million times more awful for Peter to do something that horrible to MJ.

Peter needed to think of an excuse, something that would change the subject.  “What about — what about Liz?  I mean…”

Ned sighed.  “Look man, hate to break it to you, but you and Liz probably won’t happen.  Especially when you ditched her at the dance… and put her father in jail.”

“Thanks Ned,” Peter muttered.

“What do you have to lose if you ask MJ out?” Ned asked.

“She says no,” Peter said.  Rejection may not be the worst thing that had happened in Peter’s life but still, it was pretty embarrassing.  “Or I hurt her…”

Ned’s eyes went very serious.  “Look man, MJ’s more likely to hurt you than you are to hurt MJ.  Let’s face it, you’re a great guy and MJ may be a little bit more understanding than Liz.  You haven’t screwed MJ over yet the way you did when you abandoned the team at DC.”

“Thanks _again_ ,” Peter said, though he didn’t completely shut the idea out.  What if Peter did ask MJ out?  He liked her.  Thought she was a cool person who was strong-willed, intelligent, could hold her own.  Why _not_ ask her out?

They were at the art show probably the longest compared to the other visitors who came and went, admired the artwork, gave some kind compliments, took some free food and then disappeared.  Peter and Ned mingled.  They talked to the other artists, got to known their stories a little bit and hear more about their techniques or why they decided to become an artist.  Most of the other artists were in college or around MJ’s age.  There were a few older ones, adults who already had their jobs but had a hobby and passion for art.  After getting to know most of the other artists and enjoying some of the free food, May showed up.  She came a little earlier than she promised because she wanted to see some of the art herself.

“Where’s MJ?” May asked.

“She’s over here,” Peter said, his face going red.  It wasn’t being out in public with May that made Peter feel embarrassed.  It was the fact that he knew May was about to humiliate.  Still.  Peter guided May through the art work, pointing out a couple of other artists that Peter thought his aunt would like before stopping by MJ’s place.  “MJ, this is my aunt.  May, this is Michelle Jones.  Do you—”

“Of course I remember Michelle,” May said, hitting Peter on the shoulder.  “And wow.  Michelle, you are so talented.  Where did you learn to paint like this?”

MJ just shrugged.  “Just a lot of practice.  I got bored when I was a kid.”

“If only Peter did productive things when he got bored,” May said, laughing.  “I’m technically just Peter’s ride today but I wanted to see for myself what kind of art you did.”

“I’m glad you guys came,” MJ said.

“So am I,” Peter replied.

There was a long pause, filled with uncomfortable smiles as May looked between Peter and MJ.  May finally said, “I’m going to go look at some of the other artwork.  I’ll leave you two to talk.”

May smiled again before walking away.  Peter wanted to say something to MJ.  This was _his chance_.  If he really was planning on asking her out, this would be the best time: they were alone, they were meeting up outside of school for a reason that didn’t relate to anything academic.  Peter, for once, felt like he was starting to get over Liz.  Not that there really was anything to get over.  He wanted to take a chance.  “What are you doing next weekend?” Peter blurted out.  It was random, unexpected even to himself, but he felt a breath of fresh air as he did it.  He put himself out there.  Didn’t let any stupid anxiety or fear or commitment issues stop him.

MJ blinked a couple of times as she let what Peter said sink in.  As she paused, as she thought through the answer Peter could see slowly formulating in her mind, Peter was suddenly worried she was going to say no.  But then, “I’m not sure.  Why?”

That wasn’t a straight rejection, but it also meant that Peter had to get his story straight.  “Maybe we could get dinner.  If — if you’re not doing anything.  If you are, we can always—”

“Sounds great,” MJ said, hurriedly. “Do you know — do you know what time?  And where?  My parents — er, _my dad_ will probably want to know the details and everything.”

“I’ll text you by tonight.  Do you think your dad will want to meet me before then?” Peter asked.

She shook her head.  “No, no.  He’ll just want to know the details.”

Peter smiled.  Seriously and _genuinely_ excited for something for what felt like the first time in weeks, Peter went back to May and Ned that night, grinning.

* * *

Peter was looking forward for his and MJ’s date ( _is it_ an official date?) all week.  Saturday night when Peter told May and Ned about the date with MJ, Ned felt pretty good since he credited himself to pushing Peter to ask her out and May, still well aware about how her nephew was devastated over Liz moving, was thrilled.  With Tony’s help — of course Peter told Tony — May organized the date with Peter barely lifting a finger.  They got reservations as some decent Italian restaurant a couple blocks away from Peter’s place.  Wasn’t too expensive, which was good since Peter assumed he was going to be paying for it, and it was formal enough that Peter could dust off some of his nicer clothes without needing to burn a bunch of money on attire he couldn’t afford.  He texted the time and place for the date, and MJ responded enthusiastically that she could come.

As the week passed, Peter _knew_ that he was excited to go on a date with MJ.  Whatever he was feeling with MJ was different than he felt with Liz.  It wasn’t just this hard hit of infatuation he had for a girl who was gorgeous and smart and perfect.  Of course Peter thought MJ was attractive but there was something else compared to what he felt with Liz.  Peter wasn’t sure what that other thing was, yet.  Wasn’t sure if there actually _was_ some other variable that marked the way he felt with MJ and Liz as two different entities.  But this other _thing_ that Peter was feeling made him all the more nervous about tonight.  There were so many ways that this could go wrong.  So many ways that could end with him hurting her or her hurting him.  What if Peter needed to go be Spider-Man for a couple minutes?  What if he couldn’t get free?  What if someone —

“Peter?”

He stopped himself and spun around to see that May was standing by his doorway.  He looked around to realize that he was standing in the middle of his bedroom, hands gripped tight into a ball, and breath heavy.  Blinking a couple of times, Peter gathered his bearings.  “Yeah.  What’s up?”

“I have a visitor for you.  To get you ready for your date,” May said, smiling.

A second later and Tony Stark peaked around the corner.  Peter raised his eyebrows.  “Oh.  Hey — hey Tony.  What are you doing here?” 

“My kid has a date.  An actual date, not some fluffy high school dance,” Tony said.

“You didn’t need to stop by,” Peter said.  “It’s just—”

“It’s not like we’re doing anything better today,” May interrupted. 

Tony stayed at Peter’s apartment all the way up until Peter was going to pick up MJ — and Peter didn’t even spend the whole day getting ready for the dance.  Having Tony around was nice, though.  It gave Peter and May some extra company, which was nice given how quiet it can be when it was just the two of them.  Tony gave May some business advice, a bunch of stock and bank information that Peter didn’t bother to worry about just yet, and helped Peter out with college advice.  Going to college was a whole other conversation that Peter and May have had, and that’s not something Peter is ready to think about right now.  Not when his date was rapidly approaching and he needed to worry about that instead.

Peter wasn’t expected to dress in super formal attire, nor he was planning on it, but with Tony around he didn’t really have much a choice.  He wasn’t going to wear a blazer or anything.  Just formal plants, a nice-looking button up and maybe a tie.  Tony and May argued back and forth about what color tie could bring out Peter’s eyes the most before Peter got frustrated with the two adults and decided on a simple blue tie.

“I’ll take care of that for you,” Tony said after Peter fruitlessly tried to replicate the tutorial on how to tie a Windsor knot.  “Nervous?”

Peter shrugged.  “A little.”

“You’re not going to leave her mid-date like you did with Liz, are you?” May asked.

Peter sighed.  “No, May.  I’m not going to do that.”

“And if you have a problem with anything, I’m talking _anything_ , you know that you can call me,” Tony said.  “Seriously.  If there’s something that you think the other guy should take care of, let me know and I’ll help you out.  I don’t want you bailing out on this girl.”

“I’m not going to bail out,” Peter promised, though he couldn’t pretend that he was slightly worried some part of his fight-or-flight inclination was going to act up the second Peter sees MJ.  “So, what do you talk about on a date?  What should I — what should I do?”

“Ask her about her day.  Get to know her a little bit.  Girls love it when guys are interested in their lives,” May said.

“And actually be interested.  Don’t just pretend to listen.  That always come back to bite you in the ass,” Tony said.  “And don’t be indifferent either.  Don’t just say, ‘oh it’s your choice.’  Take into consideration what she wants but the girls don’t want to make the decisions all the time.”

“I thought it was the other way around,” Peter said.

“Sometimes, it is,” May said.  She got up from Peter’s desk chair to straighten up the collar on his dress shirt.  “But most importantly, be yourself.  There’s a reason why MJ wanted to go to dinner with you, and it’s not because of your amazing good looks.”

“Gee.  Thanks May,” Peter muttered.

“I’m kidding.  I’m kidding,” May said.  She turned to look at her and Peter’s reflection in his bedroom mirror.  Peter had to admit that he looked pretty decent: hair combed back, clean-shaven (not that there’s really much to shave), and he doesn’t look so exhausted, worn-down.  May brushed her fingers against his chin.  “God.  When I look at you in that mirror, all I can think about is how much you look like your father.  And Ben… They would have been so proud of you, Peter,” May whispered.

Peter felt a twinge of pain shot itself up his back.  Though May was just sister-in-law to Peter’s parents, they were so close they could have actually been related by blood.  When Peter’s parents were killed, it was especially hard on May.  Then Ben’s death and the fact that Peter could die any given night when he puts the suit on… he forgets how hard it must be for her. 

“Jeez May,” Peter said, trying to bring levity back to the situation.  “You’re killing me.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.  I’m sorry,” May said, quickly.  She glanced over at Tony, who looked as though he was a stranger intruding on an intimate moment.  “Oh, just ignore me.  MJ’s supposed to be over any minute.  You have everything you need?”  She reached for her purse and pulled out a couple of twenties.  “Treat yourself _and_ her tonight.”

“Don’t worry about it.  I have plenty of—” Peter started.

“What kind of parent would I be if I didn’t do this for you?” May said.  “And buy her flowers after your date.  Girls love that, too.”

“It’s true,” Tony added, grinning.

* * *

When MJ showed up, Peter felt his breath being taken away the minute he got a good look at her.  She wore a navy dress with beaded flowers and a flowing skirt.  Again, she looked _gorgeous,_ especially with her brown hair flowing down her shoulders and framing her face the way that it did.  He was thrown off-guard.  He had a hard time knowing what to say to her at the beginning of the night as they walked quietly to Barosa.  It was a Saturday night so the restaurant was pretty lively with other couples.  Peter and MJ were seated near the back at a little wooden table covered with a white table cloth.  The lighting was dim, which was good because Peter figured he would be spending most of his night blushing his way through the date and he didn’t want to risk anymore embarrassment. 

“This place is nice,” MJ said as she settled into her chair.

Peter nodded.  “Yeah.  Never been here before but I got recommended the place so, I hope it lives up to the recommendation…”  Peter glanced at the menu, his heart beating as he took a good look at the prices that he wasn’t sure he would be able to afford.  _Breathe Peter_ , _you have plenty of money_ , he had to keep reminding himself.  _Stop worrying_.  “Do you like Italian food?”

“Yeah.  Pasta’s good,” MJ said.

Peter thought about Tony and May’s advice.  Ask her about her life.  It wasn’t that Peter was pretending to be interested in her life.  He really was.  He really wanted to know about her, but he was having such a hard time formulating questions, delving into her life without seeming like he was trying too hard or coming on too strong.  “How did your art competition go?”

“I didn’t win,” MJ said, though she didn’t sound very disappointed about it.  “All the owner really wanted was some fluffy, happy-go-lucky piece that potential buyers would want to see in a potential home.  Still, I didn’t leave the competition completely empty handed.  The person running the competition thought I was pretty talented and she bought one of my pieces, the one with the teddy bear and the grasping hand, to put up in the business office of her realtor company.  Wasn’t winning a competition but it came with some money so that was good.  I can probably spend it on some new art supplies.  I’m running kind of low.”

“Are you thinking about doing some other artwork?” Peter asked.

MJ nodded.  “There’s always local businesses looking for art and I’m sure someone is out there looking for stuff like my work.”

“What are you painting next?”

The conversation was interrupted by the waiter coming over with a pen and pad and explaining the specials for the night.  Some kind of fancy soup that was read to them in Italian that Peter wouldn’t have been able to pronounce no matter how hard he tried and this special seafood pasta.  With the waiter coming over to take their drink orders, Peter took a deep breath.  He wasn’t feeling stressed out, on edge.  It was a little uncomfortable at first but the more and more that Peter let himself get into the conversation about her artwork, the more relaxed he seemed to be.  They ordered their drinks quickly before turning back to the conversation.

“So, where were we?” Peter said.  “Your next painting?”

“I’m not sure yet.  I’m — I’m waiting to see what sketch calls for me to paint next,” she said as she started fumbling with something in her purse.  She pulled out her little black sketchbook out of her purse and started thumbing through the pages.  “I have a couple of ideas.”  She flipped through a couple of pages before rotating the sketchbook and showed him a couple of her drawings.  One of a rustic looking fire place and the other of small, roughed-up comforter with another teddy-bear slumped over.

“Do you carry this around everywhere you go?” Peter asked.

MJ shrugged.  “Just in case.  I don’t want to risk seeing something that would make a good painting and not have something to remember it by.”

“Have you ever heard of taking a picture with your phone?” Peter said, jokingly.  He was testing the water a little bit, checking to see if teasing was okay right now.

“Not as authentic,” MJ said. 

“And what about the teddy bear?” Peter asked.  He tried hard to just sound curious, not judgmental.

MJ didn’t answer at her first.  A serious look on her face, an almost grave one, filled her face and Peter was afraid that he had crossed a line… but that look on her face disappeared in a couple of seconds.  “They’re easy to draw,” she said, closing up the book and putting it back in her purse.  “Which do you think I should paint next?”

“The fire place is nice,” Peter said. “What kind of colors would you use?  Orange maybe?  Or would it all be in black and white?”  It wasn’t like Peter had the capability of coming up with half decent compliments so showing interest in her work, showing _investment_ in what she created, was his own way of showing how absolutely enthralled he was with her paintings. 

“I’ve been thinking about some different options,” MJ said.  “I want to keep most of the painting black and blue and gray but maybe the fire itself would be orange.  Bright.  Like a beacon a light in a very dark place.”  Again with that sad look on her face and again it disappeared before Peter had the opportunity to say anything.  “But I have to make sure that my painting doesn’t get in the way of the other… responsibilities that I have.”

“Don’t worry.  Now that I’m co-captain, you’ll have more free time.”

There was a half-hearted smile on MJ’s face.  “There’s work and stuff.  Other things.”  Here comes more guarded conversations again.  Peter felt like he was fighting an uphill battle to get anything out of MJ.  She decided to break the silence instead, which was nice.  “How’s May been?”

“Good,” Peter said.  “How about your brother? Kevin, right?  How old is he?”

“Kev’s eight.  He’s been pretty good,” MJ said.  Pausing just briefly to give their orders to the waiter who came to deliver their drinks, they continued the conversation where they left off.  “I tried drawing him once but it didn’t turn out as great.  The kid won’t stop moving.”

Peter chuckled.  “Did your family end up going to your art show?  I don’t remember seeing them.”

MJ shook her head.  “My dad didn’t want my brother going.”

That made Peter stop to think a little harder.  It wasn’t that her family _couldn’t_ go.  It was that her dad didn’t _want_ them to go.  “Oh,” Peter said.  “Why didn’t your dad want them to go?” he asked.  MJ’s face went very cold, and Peter was suddenly very worried that he asked the wrong question.

She tried to act nonchalant.  “It’s nothing.  My dad needed the car for work so there was no way to get to the art show other than walking, and it’s kind of through a shady part of town so...”

There was something about her voice that suggested she wasn’t telling the complete truth, only Peter didn’t think it was in his place to question it any further.  “That makes sense,” he said; he pretended he didn’t notice MJ let out a sigh of relief.  Peter knew he should change the subject but he found himself struggling to find something else to talk about.  How lame would he be if he started talking about school right now?  And he already exhausted talking about her art show.  Clearly her family wasn’t a subject she wanted to talk about it.  “How’s your job?” he attempted.

“It’s alright for a minimum wage job,” MJ said.  “I get a little discount on groceries, which my parents _love_.  The manager who schedules us likes me so she makes sure that I’m not working too much, especially during finals or midterms.”

“That’s good,” Peter said. 

“What about Mr. Stark?  How much do you get paid?  Does he work with your school schedule?”

Peter nodded.  “With Tony, being a student and being a, well, being a _kid_ comes before being an intern.  I got a little frustrated with it at first since I felt like I was being babied all the time but the more and more responsibilities I have, the more I appreciate that.  Tony was really excited when I told him that I was voted co-captain of the Decathlon team.”

“I was excited too,” MJ whispered with a small smile on her face.  The tension and the awkwardness that filled the conversation just a couple minutes ago seemed to have dissipated at least a little.  She pursed her lips thoughtfully before saying, “So you’re on a first name basis with Tony Stark.  And apparently, you’ve met Spider-Man.  What other Avengers have you met?”

Peter’s face flushed pink.  He kept forgetting about how Ned foolishly and embarrassingly yelled in front of their entire gym class that Peter knew Spider-Man.  Regardless of whether Flash or the others didn’t believe him, Peter was too caught up with the fact that Liz invited Peter to her party to care about how damaging it was for Peter’s identity to go around telling people how he knew the masked vigilante.  “I mean, I’ve met Spider-Man a couple of times, and Vision and Rhodes — the War Machine is his technical name.  Tony hired me as an intern during the big Cap/Iron Man civil war thing so I didn’t meet a lot of the others.”

“What side are you on?  Team Iron Man or Team Captain America?” MJ asked.

“It’s… _complicated_ ,” Peter said.  “A lot more complicated than the media suggests.  At first, all I really understood was Tony’s side but the more you learn about why Captain America was fighting, the more you sympathize with their side.  What about you?”

“More anti-government than I am Team Iron Man or Captain America.  I think the Sokovia Accords is bullshit,” MJ said.  It was a strong opinion, Peter could tell that much just off the severe tone in her voice.  “Since when has the government been any better at caring about collateral damage than the Avengers?  Who wanted to nuke all of Manhattan again?  And Tony Stark and anyone else who signed the Sokovia Accords has their head up their asses if they think that signing that document will do anything other than shift the blame when the next world meltdown happens.  Before, the Avengers at least owned up to the fact that they were responsible for all dying and now they just have a paper they can hide behind even more.  And that’s no offense to your mentor or anything.  The fact that he’s at least taking into consideration what other nations think is best for the world is good, I guess.”

Peter looked at MJ a little stunned.  “Wow.  Didn’t realize you felt that strongly about this.”

“You’re not the only one who finds the politics surrounding the Avengers interesting,” MJ said.  “Don’t even get me started on the Raft Prison.”

The waiter came to deliver their food now.  At first, they ate in silence, unsure of where to move the conversation next.  As a few minutes passed and Peter practically demanded himself to break the silence, he eased the conversation back into both of their comfort zones.  Asked questions about school.  Upcoming tests.  What they were looking forward to for the rest of their sophomore year (MJ was apparently really excited for the holiday party she had planned for the Decathlon team, a party that Peter was responsible for help host).  When they finished eating and the waiter came to take their food, there was a little tussle about who was going to pay, though Peter made it clear that he would.  It was a polite, very tentative conversation that had its highs and lows where they suddenly felt comfortable with sharing intimate, personal thoughts about their year before reverting back to hesitantly bringing up small talk. 

They walked out of the warm restaurant in the cold air where they turned to look at each other.  “So, I guess I’ll see you on Monday,” MJ said.  It appeared that MJ wasn’t making that comment because she was miserable and was desperately hoping to escape from this date.  It just seemed like a blank statement.

Peter didn’t know what to say next.  “How close is your house from here?”

She bit down her lip so hard Peter was afraid it would draw blood.  “Pretty close.  Why?  I’m not sure if my dad would be up for visitors.”

“That’s not what I meant.  I’ll just — I can walk you home.  It’s not that far from where I live,” Peter said.  That wasn’t completely true but it wasn’t like Peter was worried about getting mugged.  They started walking down the sidewalk, past the lively vendors that were still hurriedly selling their last bits of food and calling for more customers.  Just as Tony and May suggested, Peter stopped by a little flower shop and bought MJ a couple of roses.  “Here,” he said.

She smiled and took the flowers.  “Thanks,” she whispered, twirling the stems in her fingers.

The flower shop was surprisingly close to MJ’s house.  They only had to walk another couple of blocks before they stopped in a small little cul-de-sac of one to two stories home.  Compared to the other houses in her neighborhood, MJ’s home was by far the humblest, not to say that it was shabby looking, though.  A stone path led from the sidewalk through the untrimmed grass and all the way up to the threshold of a porch.  The exterior, though simple colored, looked like it had just been painted recently, emphasized by the bold maroon color of her door.  Hedges and unruly flowers that were in bad need of trimming or dead-heading filled the garden in her front yard.

Peter walked her all the way to the front stoop. MJ had a pensive look on her face, as though she was debating whether or not it would be rude not to invite Peter in.  Peter didn’t want MJ to be put in an uncomfortable position so he quickly said, “Did you at least have fun tonight?”

“Yeah.”  Judging by her tone of voice and her facial expression, she seemed to be telling the truth.  She glanced at the doorway before saying, “I would invite you in but—”

The front door opened before MJ could finish.  She jerked to look at the door, this startled look on her face as though she figured everyone was supposed to be gone.  Expecting her mother or father, Peter was surprised when a young boy, probably no older than ten, peaked his head around the door; Peter could only assume that this was MJ’s younger brother, Kevin. The round nose was a clear resemblance between the two siblings, but her brother had rounder eyes and a rounder face — baby fat, perhaps.

“MJ?” her brother whispered.

“Oh, hey dude,” MJ said in a surprisingly playful voice.  Kevin stepped outside on the patio, closing the door and running into his older sister’s arms.  Grinning, MJ turned to look at Peter.  “Kevin, can you say hi to Peter?  He was the boy that took me to dinner tonight.”

Kevin turned to look Peter up and down, his young eyes taking Peter in.  “If you hurt my sister, you’ll be in big trouble,” Kevin said, frowning.

Peter laughed.  He couldn’t help it.  “I promise I won’t hurt her,” Peter said, flashing MJ a wide grin.

“How’s it going?  How was that movie you wanted to watch?” MJ asked, poking her brother in the shoulder.

Kevin sighed.  “Dad wanted to watch something else instead.  He had a bad day at work.”

The light-hearted smile on MJ’s face disappeared into a frown.  Quickly, as though remembering that Peter was still standing there, she sighed.  “That’s okay.  You and I can watch it when he falls asleep.  How’s that sound?”

“Good!” Kevin practically squealed.

She smiled again, though this looked like a pure façade.  “Okay.  I’m going to say goodnight to Peter.  Why don’t you head back inside, yeah?”

“Okay!”  Kevin gave her sister another hug before turning to Peter and saying, “Bye, Patrick.”  He hurried inside.

MJ laughed.  “I’ll tell him it’s Peter later,” MJ said.  She sounded happy, but there was still an edge to her voice that Peter couldn’t shake.  “I’m sorry.  I know it’s probably rude not to invite you but—” She trailed off again, caught up in her thoughts.  Then, not waiting to say something or waiting for Peter to say anything, she leaned forward and pressed a kiss on Peter’s cheek.  It wasn’t really that intimate, more rushed than anything, and it left both parties pretty embarrassed.  “I’ll see you on Monday,” she finally said.  She pulled the front door open and closed it without waiting for a response.  Peter stood there on the front steps of MJ’s house for a couple of seconds, his mind reeling, slightly stunned, slightly confused, slightly _excited_.

What a night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiya:) 
> 
> I'm still coming up with a tentative outline so I'm not a hundred percent sure where I'm taking the plot yet, but there a lot of ideas I have. A little bit more action will be coming up soon and I'm super excited to start diving into issues that Peter has. For those wondering/asking, I won't be focusing on MJ's story as much at the beginning compared to how much attention I'll be giving Peter but her story will be told eventually.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed!


	5. Opening Up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for taking so long to post this. I got pretty busy these last couple of weeks.
> 
> Anyway, here's a chapter of (mostly) fluff :)

_“I’m beginning to trust you. It’s scaring me._

_I’m giving you new ways to hurt me every single day._

_What’s strange is…_

_I actually don’t think you will.”_

Chapter Five: Opening Up

Wednesday after school Peter found himself running back from the Chinese takeout place just down the street to get back to Midtown on time for his emergency captain’s meeting with MJ.  After administering the first practice test on Tuesday, Peter and MJ were now tasked with grading the papers as well as writing the next practice test.  Peter didn’t realize just how daunting this task was until he was delegated the job of coming up with all the STEM questions.  Expecting that they wouldn’t be able to get all this work done Friday after school, the two of them agreed to get a head start today.  Red pens out and Chinese cartons in front of them as a reward for their work, MJ and Peter went through the tests quietly.

“What are you doing after this?” MJ asked as she finished calculating Gwen Stacy’s score and then marking it on top. 

Peter shrugged.  “I’ve got a lot of homework to get done after this.  You can come over to my place and we can get some work done together.”

“Okay.  We can work on our chemistry homework together.”  We.  That was still weird considering the fact that just a couple of months ago MJ would hardly admit that she was friends with him.

After their date Monday, Peter didn’t know what to expect.  Were they dating?  Would they start labeling each other as boyfriend/girlfriend?  Or were they still in that awkward, confusing phase in between friendship and a non-platonic relationship.  Did one of them need to initiate that conversation about what _they_ mean together?  He thought there was going to be a slew of awkward interaction after awkward interaction between the two of them as they tried to figure out if there was even a _them_.  Only, it wasn’t like that.  It never felt like a forced conversation that they were just expected to have.  Everything came natural to Peter and MJ, just as easy as it was before they went on a date.  So, on Monday when they first saw each other, after Peter thought through the thousands of different ways that this conversation could have turned out, he was _relieved_ when MJ suggested that they should hang out sometime again.  Just the two of them.  They didn’t make formal plans, didn’t feel the need to rush into anything as though they needed to mark their territory.  Then that night MJ and Peter went on a walk through Central Park (it’s a little clichéd and sappy but neither of them minded).  That simple plan turned into a whole night.  Getting take out.  Sitting on a bench and people watching.  Laughing, smile, holding hands.  Hours and hours of talking.  It felt like a teen movie, and Peter couldn’t _believe_ the fact that he was a part of it.  With Michelle Jones no less.

Fortunately, there was no awkwardness between the two of them at all like Peter expected.  They still sat together at lunch, embraced the hassle of trying to get Flash to listen to the two of them at decathlon practice.  Only, instead of it being MJ and Peter working together as friends, it seemed like they were coming together as a cohesive unit, a partnership that could handle the pressure and stress of their responsibilities for prepping the team for competition.  Peter wouldn’t say they were dating yet.  He wouldn’t call her his girlfriend, and he figured MJ wasn’t going around telling everyone that Peter Parker was her boyfriend.  They hadn’t had _that_ conversation yet.  The one where they finally look at each other and decide what they mean.

Peter wanted to initiate that conversation.  _He_ wanted to know what was happening between the two of them.  If he meant more to MJ than just that kid from school or the co-captain or even a friend.  Peter knew that he felt like MJ was becoming more than those labels, was becoming something that Peter didn’t expect.  Being a guy in high school, Peter has, of course, had crushes before.  Whenever he saw Liz he felt mesmerized, nervous, _terrified_.  The thought of speaking to her made his stomach knot up.  He didn’t want to say the wrong thing, didn’t want to offend her without meaning to.  Peter still has those concerns when he’s with MJ but less so.  He felt like he could be himself with her.  There was never this worry that Peter had to be anything other than _Peter Parker_. 

“Do we _need_ to have all these tests graded by Thursday?” Peter asked as he finished up Abraham’s.

“We said we would have them done,” MJ said.  “And the faster their done, the sooner that we can start prepping them and the more likely we are to win.”

“Never pegged Michelle Jones to be so competitive,” Peter said, nudging MJ in the shoulder.

“Never pegged Peter Parker to be such a _slacker_ ,” MJ quipped, returning the gesture.  “Come on.  You’re almost finished with your pile.”

Peter rolled his eyes.  The joking around was surprisingly easy between the two of them.  Another shocker.  He always knew MJ was something else, this quiet girl on the outside, who kept to herself, watched from afar and only piped up when she found that it was really worth her time to say something.  But the more they talked — and they were talking _a lot_ more than usual — Peter realized how much MJ had a passion for laughing, for making people smile, for joking around.  She was still an incredibly guarded person, acted completely different with the rest of the Decathlon team.  Peter was okay with that, though.  He was okay with answering her questions and supplying the conversation while MJ worked hard to keep her personal life _her_ personal life.  And it was only because Peter knew he had plenty of time, plenty of lazy weekends when all they wanted to do was binge watch Netflix together or they wanted go out to breakfast together, to peel all the layers back.  To finally know her through and through.  He couldn’t _wait_.

“Do you have any plans for winter break?” Peter asked.  He still couldn’t believe that his sophomore year was already halfway through.  This was the last week before Midtown’s two-week break.  Normally, Christmas was a small event, just a nice dinner with him and May at his apartment but this year was going to be different.  Tony had invited the two of them over to the Avengers’ Compound to celebrate the holiday season.  Dinner with Pepper Potts, Iron Man, War Machine and Vision.  _The Avengers_.  Needless to say, Peter was pretty excited. 

MJ shrugged.  “Nothing really.  We have the Decathlon holiday party.  And that’s about it.  We don’t normally get a lot of family to come visit us for Christmas. You finished?” she suddenly asked.

“Yeah,” Peter said.  He handed her his stack and she paper clipped the tests together before slipping the stick into a little red folder.

“See?” she said.  “That only took an hour and a half.”

Peter rolled his eyes.  “Whatever.  You wanna come over?”

“Sure,” MJ agreed.

It was freezing outside and neither of them were well dressed for the cold so they opted out of walking and took the bus to Peter’s apartment.  Since Peter hadn’t bothered with texting May that MJ was coming over, Peter’s aunt took the surprise well; she elatedly welcomed MJ over to their apartment.  Peter and MJ spent the entire night in together, sitting in Peter’s room, MJ sitting at his desk and Peter leaning against the post of his bed as the two of them did homework.  Peter glanced over at MJ as she did her homework.  He noticed how she was always bit down on her lip as she scrubbed something out with her eraser.  Noticed the way that brows furrowed as she struggled her way through her homework.  Noticed how her lips twitched into a subtle smile when she finally solved whatever question she was having a hard time with.  When they were tired of doing homework (and when May interrupted them with dinner, a good excuse to stop), they settled into the living room where they flipped through some Netflix movies before settling on _Men in Black_.  It was a good night — a _great_ night, and when it was over May got MJ an uber despite her claiming she could walk home perfectly fine on her own.

“I like her,” May finally said when MJ was gone.

Peter smiled.  “Yeah,” he said, nodding.  “I do, too.”

“You’re not going to ruin it, are you?”

Peter rolled his eyes while he started off toward his bedroom.  _Hopefully not._

* * *

When Peter got back from his rounds that night (it was a very late night considering the fact that MJ didn’t leave until 9:00 and Peter didn’t head out until 10:00), he yanked the window open and slipped into his room.  It was two in the morning, which meant that May was probably asleep, which meant that he had to be silent.  He threw off his suit, stuffed it into the secret compartment, grabbed a change of clothes and went to take a shower.  After his rounds that night, Peter was still feeling pretty on edge.  Getting shot at that night could do it to him.  He still couldn’t shake the sound of the gun going off when he was trying to stop that robber.  Nothing happened — the spider-senses made sure of that, especially after what happened a couple weeks ago.  The adrenaline that kept Peter from getting shot was still on its high point.  His heart was still racing.  He hadn’t been able to catch his breath yet.  Normally, Peter calms down after a fight pretty quickly but recently… it’s just been harder.  _He doesn’t know what’s wrong with him_. 

Taking a shower sometimes helps relax him.  Only this time it didn’t, and he went back to his room still feeling on edge.  The spider-senses, as helpful as having that is whenever Peter gets in a huge fight, can sometimes get on his last nerves, especially when the damn things won’t shut off.  Like now.  That tingling feeling wouldn’t go away, not when he was yanking his sheets off in frustration, not when he slammed his head against his pillow and tried to force himself to get to sleep.  Peter kept rolling around his bed, checking the window, straining to hear any indication of May (or anyone else for that matter) moving around inside his apartment.  Peter could hear his own heart thrumming in his ears.  He felt his stomach knot up as he twisted around in bed trying to get himself to fall asleep.

“God,” Peter muttered.  He reached for his phone briskly and checked the clock.  Now it was almost 3:00.  “Just fall asleep…” he whispered to himself, as if that would do anything to make his body finally wind down.  Even when Peter wanted nothing more than to just slip into a dreamless sleep, a little part of his brain wouldn’t let him.  A little part of his brain kept telling Peter to stay awake.  _What if someone would try to break into his apartment?  What if someone tried to hurt May?_

_What someone was already in the apartment and just waiting for Peter to come back?_

And suddenly it wasn’t just paranoia making his heart beat faster or making his neck and back feel clammy or making his stomach twist in pain.  It was real nausea.  Nausea that hit him hard and fast like a boulder in a land slide, nausea that made Peter’s ears ring and the world spin.  He was grappling to get out of his bed, fighting to keep himself together until he made it to the bathroom.  He felt himself lunge forward to get hold of the side of the toilet and threw up.  Groaning, Peter pulled himself off the ground to the sink.  After rinsing his mouth out with water, Peter leaned his face against the cold wall of his bathroom.  He thought he was feeling better… but he wasn’t.  He doubled over to throw up again.

“Peter?” May said, quietly; he didn’t even hear her come in.  She leaned beside him, pressing a hand on his back soothingly.  “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t — I don’t know,” Peter managed while shivering. 

May pushed his sweaty hair off of his forehead and pressed the back of her palm against it.  When she frowned, Peter knew this wasn’t good.  “Have you been feeling sick all day?” she asked as she started digging through some of the bathroom drawers; she pulled out a thermometer.

“Not really.  I was trying to sleep and all of a sudden I didn’t feel so good,” Peter said.

May, still looking perplexed, put the thermometer under Peter’s mouth.  After waiting for a couple of minutes, the little thermometer confirmed that Peter’s temperature had rapidly risen from 98.6 to 101.4.  She groaned.  “Do you think it’s the flu again?”

 _Again_.  Yeah.  Having the enhanced healing ability was nice and all, especially when he got badly injured in fights like he normally does, but that doesn’t keep Peter from getting sick.  Ever since the spider bite, he’s been falling ill to 24 hour viruses much more frequently than he used.  It comes and goes quickly — _thankfully_ — but when it comes, it hits Peter hard.  High temperature.  Dizziness.  Intense nausea that made Peter think he was going to pass out from the throbbing headaches.  It was crippling enough to sideline him for a couple of days, keep him bedridden even with a boat-load of things he had to get done.  The fact that he doesn’t normally get enough sleep and the sheer stress being Spider-Man puts on his body doesn’t help him either.  Since the summer going into sophomore year, Peter has gotten the stomach flu three times.  Three awful times.

“Probably,” he finally said, a shiver racking through his body.

“Let me get you some water.  Do you think you’re ready to go back to your bed or do you think you should stay here for a little bit longer?” May asked.

Peter didn’t think before he answered, “Stay in here.”

“Okay,” May said, sighing.  “I’ll get you some water.”  Peter’s aunt left for a fraction of second, and Peter slumped even further against the bathroom counter.  When she returned, she was holding a glass of ice water and a small trash can.  “Here.”

“What’s the trash can for?” Peter asked.

“For when you go back to your room in case…” May stopped herself from finishing that sentence.  “Do you want some meds?”

Peter shook his head.  It wouldn’t help, not with Peter’s ridiculous metabolism that would burn through whatever medication May gave him.  “I’ll just sleep it off.  You know it’ll pass,” Peter said.  He took a sip of the ice water. 

Peter stayed in the bathroom for another half hour — he still felt so dizzy that the sheer thought of getting up to crawl back in bed made him feel like he was going to throw up again.  May stayed with Peter the entire time, rubbing his back soothingly whenever Peter thought he was going to vomit again or offering to get water or running to grab a pillow so he could have something to lean his head against.  By 4:00 in the morning, Peter was too tired to stay near the bathroom and there was nothing left for him to throw up either.  May kept Peter in her arms as she hoisted her nephew off the bathroom floor and back to his room where she tucked him in, closed up the blinds and left the trashcan beside his bed just in case.

May called the school that morning to let them know Peter was going to be absent.  He wanted to go to school, didn’t want to waste an absence just in case Tony needed the other guy for something, but the fever and the headaches and overall really crappy day Peter was having made it difficult for him to care that he was missing Spanish (he did, however, text MJ when he finally woke up at noon that he wasn’t going to be able to make it to decathlon practice that day).  Peter spent the day in bed, curled up in a ball and sleeping.  His computer was open and left on Peter’s side, playing Netflix in the background as he tried to fall asleep.  Every now and then May would come into his bedroom with a bowl of soup or some Sprite or fruit but the thought of eating made Peter’s stomach churn.  The thought of doing homework or even putting the Spider-Man suit on made him feel sick.  _Not tonight_ , he promised himself.  Tonight, Peter’s only responsibility was to rest and with that thought in mind, he was ready to fall asleep again but then he heard the sound of the doorbell, then pleasant voices — May greeting someone — and then footsteps.  Peter’s door opened a second later and MJ walked inside.  Dressed in leggings and a sweatshirt, MJ was grasping a bottle of Sprite and a paper bag. 

“Oh… hey,” Peter said, though he could hardly speak given how sore his throat felt.  “What are you doing here?”

“You’re sick with the flu—,” MJ started.

“—which means you shouldn’t be here.  I don’t want you getting sick,” Peter said, quietly.  He tried to lean up in his bed but that made his head start spinning so he lied back down.

“I have a great immune system,” MJ said, shrugging.  She pulled Peter’s swivel chair out from under his desk and went to sit beside him.  “I brought you chicken soup.  Hope you’re hungry.”  In the paper bag, as it turns out, was a small paper bowl with a lid on top.  “I don’t know if you’ll be able to eat it but… just in case.  And sprite.  Since I’m sure your stomach probably isn’t feeling so great.”

“Thanks…” Peter whispered.  He took hold of the soup and glanced at it.  One second of looking at it and Peter was sure that he wasn’t hungry.  Still, MJ went out of her way to bring this to him so he slurped it a little bit before setting the bowl on his bedside table and drinking the sprite.

“I also brought you your homework,” MJ said, pulling out a small folder and putting it on his desk.

Peter didn’t know what to say.  “You didn’t have to do all this.  I already emailed—”

“I wanted to do it,” she said, quickly.  “May said it was the stomach flu.”

Peter nodded.  “I feel pretty disgusting right now.  Did you at least have a good day?”

She looked into Peter’s eyes for just a fraction of second before looking away and saying, “Yeah, I guess.  Kind of missed seeing you at my locker this morning.”  She flashed Peter a coy smile.  Was Michelle Jones flirting with him, even when he was bedridden, pale and clammy, with the flu?  “But let’s not overstate things: Ned missed you more for sure.”

“Oh okay,” Peter joked back.

This light kind of banter felt so comfortable, so natural, so _easy_.  Everything with MJ came easy… But that ease disappeared a couple seconds later when the conversation relapsed into silence again.  MJ pulled out her phone and scrolled through some of her text messages while Peter rolled over in his bed to watch her.

“What are you thinking about?” he finally asked.

She looked up from her phone.  “Why do you ask?”

“You’re biting your lip.  You do that when you’re thinking about something,” Peter said.  She didn’t answer right away, brows furrowing even more, and that made Peter worried.  “Come on.  It’s you and me.  You can talk to me about anything.”

“You and me?” she repeated.  “What exactly does that mean?  Are we… Would you consider us to be…”

MJ stopped, though it didn’t matter because Peter knew what she was getting at.  He’s been waiting to have this conversation with her, trying to figure out the best way to initiate this conversation.  _Now’s your chance_ , he told himself.  “What do you want us to be?” he asked, hesitantly.  It wasn’t like he loved MJ but he knew he would be devastated if her response didn’t match what Peter’s response would’ve been if she asked.

“I’ve never really done anything like this before,” she finally said after a few _long_ seconds of contemplation.

“In case you haven’t noticed, I’m not exactly great with relationships either,” Peter said.  She chuckled, but still didn’t say anything.  Peter tried again.  “I — I like… I like you and I really like spending time with you.  Do you feel the same way?”

She nodded.  Fast.  “Yeah.  I really do,” she said.  The two of them both let out a huge sigh.  “At least we both agree on that.”

“Yeah…” Peter whispered.  He swallowed his fear and finally asked, “So, does that mean we should — do you want to… be more than friends?

MJ didn’t hesitant to answer.  “That — _yeah_ ,” she rushed to say, face going bright red.

They both let out a collective sigh again.  The question was out on the table and everything went perfectly, exactly the way that Peter wanted it to go.  Even with the relief that MJ answered the way that Peter hoped, it was clear that neither of them knew where to go from here.  What should Peter say next?  How do they move forward from here?  He figured now would make the most sense to learn more about MJ, get more personal with her, especially since they’re in private.

“You moved here from Massachusetts, right?” Peter asked.

MJ nodded.  “Yeah.  My dad didn’t really like his job so we moved here instead.  I like the people here better anyway so I’m glad we left.”

“What does your dad do again?”

“He’s a construction manager,” MJ said.  “And your aunt works at a bank, right?”

 “Yeah,” Peter said.  There she goes again trying to change the subject off of her.  Peter knew that he should respect the fact that MJ doesn’t want to open up about her personal life just yet but he can’t help but get a little frustrated.  She shouldn’t be ashamed of anything or be worried that he’s going to judge her.  He _doesn’t_ care.  He just wants to get to know her.  He figured she might feel more comfortable sharing details about herself if he did that too so he tacked on, “She used to be part-time but when Uncle Ben died, she went back to full-time.”

 “He died when you were in seventh grade,” MJ said.  It wasn’t a question and Peter knew that.  MJ already knew about Uncle Ben — practically everyone who knew Peter knew parts of what happened with his uncle. 

“Yeah,” Peter said.  “I was pretty young.”

“But old enough to understand what it means when someone dies?” MJ asked.  

Peter nodded, shuddering a little bit as he tried to forget or really to force the memories — _nightmares_ — threatening to surface out of his head.  What happened with Uncle Ben was in the past and Peter preferred that it stayed that way.  He avoided thinking about it as much as he could, though it was hard at times, especially around the anniversary of Ben’s death.  “Yeah… I keep thinking it’s going to get easier.  It has, don’t get me wrong.  It doesn’t hurt as much.  I don’t think about him as much but…”

“It’s still hard to move on when you lose someone you love,” MJ finished for him.  Again, it wasn’t a question either.  “My mom died when I was in sixth grade.  Ovarian cancer.  That’s one of the reasons why we moved… to get a fresh start in a new place.”  She paused for a second, eyes focused on the bowl of uneaten soup before saying, “My brother was only three so he didn’t really understand what was happening.  I don’t think he really remembers her that much, either.  He knows our mom is dead but it doesn’t hurt as much as it does for my father or for me.  At least I think.  I don’t really want to belittle how he feels.”

“You’re not,” Peter said, quickly.  “When someone dies when you’re younger, you still love them and you still grieve for them but it’s just different than it is when you lose someone you love when you’re older.”  That was another thing Peter could relate to.  He was only five years old when his parents were killed in a plane crash.  He was devastated, of course, but the pain he felt was so different than the pain he felt when Ben died; they couldn’t really be accurately and fairly compared. 

He looked back at MJ: her eyes looked distant, a million miles away.  She didn’t look like she was about to start crying by any means but the expression on her face was unsettling.  Peter didn’t want MJ to talk about anything that was going to make her upset but he wanted to know more. 

He tested her boundaries.  “Do you mind if I ask what she was like?  Or do you not want to talk about it?  I’d understand either way… Trust me…” Peter said.

“It’s okay,” she said.  “I mean, she was my mom and I was in sixth grade so that means I was just starting to be a brat, too. She wasn’t perfect by any means.  No mom, no _human_ is… but she cared about me.  She taught me what it meant to love _unconditionally._ ”  She stopped again, and there was a little bit of life back in her eyes.  Then, her lips curved into a smile before she said, “Look at us opening up to each other.”

“Weird, huh?” Peter said, the levity returning back to his voice.  He wanted to keep talking but he also understood how hard it was to open up about something like that.  He doesn’t want to push her.  _Change the subject._ He chugged some Sprite as an excuse to keep himself from saying anything so that he had time to come up with another topic of discussion.  “So, the Decathlon holiday party is coming up.”

“Yeah.  Next Wednesday,” MJ said.  She looked relieved at the change of subject.  “You better not cancel on me.”

Peter smiled.  “I promise I won’t.  We don’t need to show up early, right?”

MJ shook her head.  “No.  Mr. Harrington said he could handle all the decorations and food and stuff for the party.  Do you think you’ll be able to make it to school tomorrow?”

“I don’t know,” Peter admitted.  He still felt pretty awful, though he wasn’t as nauseas as he was last night.  “I guess it just depends on whether my fever breaks.”

“Let me see,” MJ said.  She pressed her hand against Peter’s forehead — her soft, gentle hand felt _so_ soothing against his clammy forehead.  “You still feel pretty warm.  I doubt you’ll be able to go to school tomorrow.”  What MJ didn’t realize was that Peter had an incredible immune system, meaning the fever would probably be gone in a couple of hours and he’d be up and ready to go by tomorrow morning.  “We could always postpone the captain’s meeting.  Maybe I can come over Saturday…”  She didn’t say anything else, other than giving Peter a flirtatious smile and glancing at Peter from beneath her lashes.

“Are you flirting with me when I have the stomach flu?” Peter said.

MJ leaned forward until she was whispering into Peter’s ear.  “Clammy foreheads and sweaty hair turn me on.”

Peter laughed.  “That’s disgusting.”

MJ pulled away, running her fingers through her hair.  “I’m just messing with you.  Come on.  How many times can you say some girl actually—” MJ’s phone went off.  She rolled her eyes and went to pull out her cell phone from her pocket.  The second her eyes caught sight of whoever was texting her, she paled.  “Oh shit…”  MJ tore away from her chair.

“What’s going on?” Peter asked.  He tried to lean up from his bed but he was too weak.

MJ ignored Peter.  She frantically typed out a message.  “Shit, I told my dad I was going to be home twenty minutes ago.”  MJ was running around Peter’s bedroom, grabbing hold of her backpack and throwing her jacket on in the same couple of seconds.  “Jesus, I was supposed to start dinner by now.”

“That’s okay.  Just let him know you and I lost track of time.”  Peter forced his arm out of bed.  He grabbed hold of MJ’s hand.  “Hey, MJ.  Just calm down.  It’s alright.  It’s not that big of deal.”

She turned to look at Peter and sighed.  “Right… you’re right it’s not a big deal.  It’s just twenty minutes…” She stopped herself again.  Judging by her expression, Peter knew that she was still pretty riled up.  She leaned over and pressed a kiss on Peter’s forehead.  “I should get anyway.  Let me know if you’re feeling better.”  MJ didn’t bother to say goodbye before she rushed out of his bedroom door.

“Hey, you shouldn’t have done that! You’ll… get the flu, too,” Peter whispered, though he didn’t know why.  She was already gone.

* * *

Peter didn’t feel any better by Friday so going to school that day was a bust, which meant that there was no way Peter could go to the captains’ meeting.  He half-expected (and was half looking forward) to having the meeting with MJ on Saturday but she texted him and said that she was canceling.  Something about how they can get the work done on their own and that Peter should focus on getting better for the holiday party coming up.

MJ and Mr. Harrington arranged for the holiday party to be that following Wednesday, and Peter found himself surprisingly excited.  He got dressed in his favorite plaid shirt, this gray and white one, before running a comb through his hair a couple of times, brushing his teeth and calling it good.  Peter and Ned were carpooling with Gwen Stacy, a junior who surprisingly offered to give the two of them a ride.  She was supposed to pick Peter up at 5:30, which would give them enough time to get Ned and head to Mr. Harrington’s house without being too late.  When Gwen texted Peter that she was double parked out front his apartment, Peter scrambled back to his room.  Hidden underneath a couple of folded t-shirts May put onto his desk was a small white box, a gift for MJ.  Granted they had just started dating so Peter didn’t expect anything from MJ (and MJ said several times that she didn’t expect anything from Peter, either), but he still got her a gift.  They were dating and he wanted to do something nice for her.  The other day Peter passed by an antique shop where he saw this really simple silver bracelet with a blue pendant in the center.  He slipped the box in his pocket and went to meet Gwen.

It was freezing outside, colder than it’s been all winter and, of course, it decided to snow.  Nothing unbearable, and nothing that would make the drive to Mr. Harrington’s house dangerous.  Just white little swirls floating around the New York sky.  Still wasn’t even cold enough for the snow to stick to anything.  “Thanks for the ride,” Peter said as he got into the front seat of Gwen’s MDX.  “Where did this snow come from?”

Gwen smiled.  “I have no idea.  It just started snowing on my way to your place.  How are you feeling?  Better?”

Peter nodded.  “Yeah.”

“That’s good.  How’s your winter break going?”

The small talk continued for a little bit longer until they reached Ned’s house, which wasn’t too far away from Peter’s.  From Ned’s place, it was a short drive over to Mr. Harrington’s place, a small two-story home about twenty minutes away from Midtown.  The three of them were the first people to show up so Gwen got a prime-time parking spot right in front of Mr. Harrington’s house.  As Peter got out of the front seat, he had to admit that he was impressed with how much Mr. Harrington decorated his place for the holidays.  Bright Christmas lights lit up the rooftop and were wrapped around the fences and hedges; a glowing blow-up Santa Clause was staring Peter down on the front yard; a line of small little candy canes stood where the front lawn met the driveway.  As Gwen, Ned and Peter went up to knock on the front door, there was a wreath hanging there.

Gwen knocked on the front door and a second later Mrs. Harrington, a younger woman with brown curly hair and laugh lines wearing this god-awful Christmas sweater, came to answer the door.  Peter only met her a couple of times, at their bigger competitions his freshman year, but he recognized her immediately.  “Hi!  Come on in!  Come on in!”  Mrs. Harrington ushered the three teenagers over the threshold.  Just as Peter expected, the inside of Mr. Harrington’s apartment was just as decorated as the outside: Christmas Tree all lit up in the quaint living room, Santa Claus and elf pillows on every couch, and Peter could distinctly smell ginger bread.  “How are you guys?  You can just throw your coats on the couches.”  Peter, Gwen and Ned did as the they were told. 

“We’re great, Mrs. Harrington,” Gwen said, politely.

A second later and Mr. Harrington, his sweater matching that of his wife’s, emerged out of the kitchen.  He had a towel thrown over his shoulder.  “Hey kids!  Gwen, Peter, Ned,” Mr. Harrington greeted politely.  “Right on time.  Hope you’re feeling better, Peter.”

Peter nodded.  “Yeah, sorry about missing practice Thursday.  Stomach flu.”

Mr. Harrington held up his hand.  “It’s not a problem.  MJ didn’t have a problem running practice that day.”

“Poor MJ, though.  Heard you gave her the flu,” Gwen said, jokingly nudging Peter on the shoulder.

That took Peter by surprise.  “Uh, what?” Peter sputtered.  “MJ’s sick?”

“Yeah.  At least, she wasn’t at school on Friday so I’m just assuming she got the flu from when she came over Thursday after school,” Ned said.  “She didn’t tell you that?”

Peter shook his head, brows furrowed.  “No.  She just told me that I didn’t need to worry about making up the captain’s meeting over the weekend.”  _Why didn’t she tell me?_ Peter thought to himself.  Was Peter even justified to be upset that MJ didn’t tell him he got her sick?  Or did she not mention anything because she didn’t want him to feel bad about getting her sick? 

“You’re not still contagious, are you?” Gwen asked.  “I’m trying to save all my sick days for work next semester during AP test and competition season.  Can’t waste any now, you know?”

“Uh…” Peter said blindly for a second.  He glanced at Gwen, realized she was trying to have a conversation with him and then said, “No, no… I’m not contagious anymore.  Fever broke Thursday night.  I was feeling great all weekend.”  He knew he shouldn’t be letting the fact that MJ didn’t say anything bother him this much but he couldn’t help it.

“What is with you and getting the flu?” Mr. Harrington asked.  “How many times is that this year?  Three already?  Didn’t you get the flu shot?”

“No.  Of course I got the flu shot,” Peter said.  “Sometimes, er, sometimes it just doesn’t always work on me.  I’m sure it won’t be like this next semester.  Or junior year.” _Hopefully_.  Peter really didn’t want to deal with the stomach flu anymore.

The doorbell rang and in walked Flash, Jason Ionello and Betty Brant.  “Oh, Mr. Parker.  How good for you to actually show up for a decathlon event,” Flash said; the one nice thing about being sick, a legitimate reason for missing school, was that Peter didn’t have to deal with Flash.  “So, were you actually sick this time, Parker?  Or did you need an excuse to do something with your hero Tony Stark?”

Peter didn’t care enough to answer.

Gwen leaned into Peter’s ear.  “Wish you got Flash sick.  We wouldn’t have to deal with him right now,” she whispered before running over to her friend Betty and going over to the photo booth display in the corner of Mr. Harrington’s living room to take pictures.

The rest of the decathlon team showed up within the next fifteen minutes.  It was the same old pleasantries every time a new team member (sometimes their parents since not a lot of the team members were old enough to drive themselves) walked into the door.  Commented on how beautiful the Harrington’s home was and how the cooking smelled great.  Said something about how they missed Peter at the most recent practice and that they hoped he was feeling better.  Still no sign of MJ, though. 

Apparently, Peter wasn’t the only person who was thinking about their co-captain.  “Isn’t MJ supposed to be here by now?” Cindy asked.

“She told us at practice on Thursday she had a bunch of ice breaker/team-building activities planned for today,” Gwen added.  “I was kind of looking forward for to it.”

“Really?  I figured they’d be kind of lame,” Flash said, shrugging.

Peter didn’t say anything right away — he didn’t know that MJ had planned anything out for the party, or the very least, MJ didn’t include him in any of the planning for the party so it wasn’t like he would have known anyway.  “Yeah… I’m not really sure where MJ is.  And I don’t know any of the team builders that she had planned.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Mr. Harrington said quickly.  “We’ve got cookies and gingerbread houses we can decorate in the spare time.”

The team got up in unison, excitedly ready to do some sort of activity.  Mr. Harrington ushered the group into his kitchen where the table in the center was covered with plates of cookies, shaped like Christmas Trees, gingerbread man, candy canes and snowmen, a few bottles of different colors of icing and lots and lots of sprinkles and different toppings.  Just as the team walked inside, Mrs. Harrington was in the middle of setting out two gingerbread houses onto the counter.  She spread out the different decorative toppings for them to use on the counter as well.  Gwen, Betty, Flash and Jason all insisted on decorating the gingerbread houses.  No one protested so the team split up and got to work.  Peter tried to keep himself interested in what was going on.  Get himself involved into the conversation about vacations and trips happening over winter break.  It didn’t work. 

Peter was starting to get worried.  _Very_ worried.  MJ was an hour late to the holiday party that _she_ planned and was incredibly excited for.  Peter remembered that she mentioned a couple days ago that she would be coming straight from work.  Did she walk?  Did she get lost?  What if something happened to her on her way over?  He pulled out his cell phone.  She hadn’t left him any messages explaining what was going on so Peter decided to send her text.  He was just checking in to make sure she was okay.  A few minutes later and MJ responded with a  << _sorry, got caught up with something… be there in 20 minutes >>. _

“What did MJ say?” Ned asked.

“She’s on her way,” Peter said, letting out a sigh of relief.  “You don’t think I’m worrying too much, do you?”

“No,” Gwen said.  “I think it’s cute.”

Flash snorted.  “I think I’m going to throw up.”

Now that Peter knew MJ was okay and on her way, he could get invested into the conversation and the activities a little better: he actually started decorating cookies (badly — Peter tried hard to make it clear that he isn’t an artist) and even joined in as the team began to sing along to Mariah Carey’s _All I Want for Christmas._ No one on the team was a natural born singer so it wasn’t like they were listening to the choir but Peter was happy and the entire team seemed like they were having fun.

Halfway through the next song, _Last Christmas_ , they were interrupted by the sound of a doorbell.  “There’s our other captain!” Mr. Harrington exclaimed.

The team followed him into the living room to watch as he got the door and let in the team’s co-captain.  When MJ stepped inside, it was a sigh of relief for Peter to see her standing in the threshold of Mr. Harrington’s room.  It was obvious she had just gotten out of the blistering cold; Peter could tell by the fact that her brown curly hair was diluted with bits and pieces of snow.  MJ peeled off her black jacket, a thick one that looked pretty new, and dropped it along with her bag onto the pile of coats thrown onto the staircase.  “Sorry I’m late,” she said, kicking off her shoes.  “My dad thought it would be a good time to go winter coat shopping for my brother and me.  Oh god.  Where are they anyway?”

“They?” Peter asked.

MJ let out a half-hearted smile just as there was a knock on the door.  “My dad and brother want to stop by.  This is kind of embarrassing…” she muttered as she went to answer the door.  In stepped a towering man, broad-shoulder, very serious looking.  Just looking at the man’s face, Peter automatically recognized him as MJ’s father.  The same eyes, same skin color, same rounded nose.  Unlike the soft features of MJ however, his eyebrows furrowed, lips pulled into a line.  Peter glanced at MJ, who stiffened a little, eyes wide.  What was wrong?  Did her father not like Peter? Or did…

“Patrick!” Kevin squealed, jumping out from behind Mr. Jones.

“Who’s Patrick?” Flash asked as Kevin went to wave at Peter.

“Kevin refuses to call Peter by his real name,” MJ scowled.

“That’s my kind of man,” Flash said, fist-bumping Kevin. 

Peter normally would have said something back to Flash, only Peter was too distracted with the looming man — _MJ’s father_ — standing right next to him.  Peter felt _obligated_ to say something to him, especially since the last time Peter thought about her dad was when MJ said that she was late going home.  Is that why he looked so mad?

“You must be Mr. Jones!” Mr. Harrington said before Peter had the chance to think of anything to say.  He walked forward and gave Mr. Jones a hearty handshake.

Peter had to admit, he was surprised when Mr. Jones returned the gesture and even smiled.  “Sorry she’s so late.  There was a sale going on and this was the only time I could take them.”

Mr. Harrington shrugged.  “Doesn’t matter.  She’s here now and that’s what’s important.  Have you met Peter?  He’s the other captain on the team.”  Mr. Harrington gestured toward Peter, who stood there frozen in the middle of the living room gawking at MJ’s father.

MJ’s father rounded on Peter.  Another smile, a genuine one.  He reached out and gave Peter a firm handshake.  “You got of a mean grip,” he said.  _Just like what Adrian Toomes said_.  “MJ’s told me about you.  You’re the guy who took her out to dinner a week ago.” Peter’s face went bright red.

“Wait, what?” Flash said.  He got off the couch.  “You mean, Peter and MJ… _no way!”_

“Ohhh,” Gwen added.  “We were all rooting for you, anyway.”

MJ groaned.  “People didn’t know about that,” she muttered under her breath; Peter looked just as red as her. 

Mr. Jones chuckled.  “Oh… Didn’t realize it was a secret.”

“Okay, okay,” Mr. Harrington said.  “Let’s just mind our business.” 

Their teacher tried hard to get the nosy decathlon members to mind their own business as Peter gathered around MJ and her father.  Thankfully, the team dispersed, falling back to their own private conversations or going back to decorate more cookies.  Now that Peter didn’t have to worry about anyone eavesdropping on their conversation, he sized up MJ’s father.  He was pretty nervous looking at her dad, not just because he towered over Peter’s statue but also because Peter didn’t want to say anything stupid.  He wanted Mr. Jones to like him.

“Nice to finally meet you, Mr. Jones,” Peter said.  Should Peter shake his hand again?  Or would be that weird?

“Call me Darrell,” he said.  That had to be a good sign.  Being on a first name basis must mean that her dad liked him… not that Peter would ever feel comfortable calling Mr. Jones by his first name.

MJ, who was awkwardly swaying back and forth on her feet, went to stand beside her father and Peter.  She looked up at her dad with frustrated, nervous eyes.  “ _Why_ did you have to embarrass me in front of everyone?  Peter and I were going to tell people about it when we were ready.”

“Embarrassing you is in my job description,” Mr. Jones said.

MJ didn’t respond, and Peter seized the opportunity.  “Sorry about making her late the other day,” Peter blurted out without thinking; out of the corner of his eye, he saw that MJ was biting down on her lip, obviously not happy with where Peter decided to take the conversation.  He quickly tacked on, “And for getting her sick — even though she didn’t say anything to me about that.”

“Didn’t want you to feel guilty,” MJ said.  She looked back at her father.

The smile slipped from Mr. Jones face but he didn’t seem angry.  More indifferent.  “Nothing to worry about.  It’s in the past.”  He glanced at the teenagers around the living room: Gwen, Flash and Jason were laughing and joking around with Kevin.  “We’ll get out of your hair.  Kevin, time to go.”

“But…” Kevin started.

“ _Let’s go,”_ Mr. Jones said sternly.  Judging by his facial expression, he came across harsher than he meant so he backtracked.  “Let’s let Michelle hang out with her friends.  I’m sure you’ll see them another time.”

“Okay…” Kevin said, dejectedly.

He grabbed hold of his winter jacket, gave MJ one last hug and followed her father outside.  With Mr. Jones and Kevin gave, the decathlon team reverted their attention back to Peter and MJ.  _When did you guys get together?  Why did you guys together?  What do you see in Peter_ (that was directed toward Michelle and since Flash asked that, the purpose behind it couldn’t have been anything good).  They dodged most of their questions, and finally Mr. Harrington spared the two teenagers by getting MJ to start the icebreakers and team-builders that she had planned.

She started with some easy games: divided the team up into two groups.  First, the human knot.  That was complicated and difficult and, despite the fact that Peter thought he was pretty flexible, he quickly realized how hilariously wrong that claim was.  The second was a competition between teams to see who could create the biggest tower using nothing but marshmallows, string and popsicle sticks.  Not to sound like he was bragging or anything but Peter felt pretty good with his engineering skills so he helped his team secure a victory.  The next one was a lot deeper, a lot more personal than Peter expected.  Mr. Harrington asked for the entire team to line up in his living room (this required some shifting of furniture so that the entire team could fit).  When he asked question and the answer was true for you, you would take a step forward so that you could see who else had the same shared life experience.  Even though it wasn’t typically played like this, MJ had everyone close their eyes so that the reveal of who the question is applicable to could be more dramatic.

The questions didn’t start off too bad: _take a step forward if you’re excited for competition season; if you can drive; if you are an underclassman._ But as the game progressed, the heavier, the sadder, the more intense the questions got.  _Take a step forward if you miss Liz; if you were scared that day in DC_ (Peter could step forward and thankfully no one questioned why); _if you worry about your parents/guardians; if you ever lost someone loved._ That question stung.  When Peter opened his eyes to look around, he was one of the three standing forward.  Beside him was MJ, no surprise there, and on the other side was Gwen.  He already knew about Gwen, too.  Just a couple years ago her father, the chief of police, was killed in a gun fight.

“And our last question,” Mr. Harrington started once Peter, MJ and Gwen stepped backwards into the line, “Take a step forward if you feel comfortable, happy and like you’re with real friends whenever you’re with the Decathlon team.” 

Everyone stepped forward.  At first, there was silence as the team members glanced at each other with a small smile on their faces, Peter’s eyes finding MJ’s.  He could see a smile on her face, too.  Quickly, the silence went away as sounds like “awwww” filled the air followed by hugs and pats on the back.  MJ’s smile slipped from her face.  “Okay, okay,” she said, quickly.  “I didn’t want to just end on a serious note.  Thought we needed to end on something a little lighter.”

“Yeah, way to kill the mood, Michelle,” Jason said, stretching onto the couch.  “What now?”

MJ smiled.  She grabbed hold of her bag.  “I know these are kind of old games but…” MJ pulled out some Wii games, the old-styled _Just Dance_ , the original _Wii Sports_ and _American Idol_.

“I have a wii just for the occasion too,” Mr. Harrington said.

Though the games were pretty old and practically no one played wii anymore, the team was genuinely excited.  They began with _American Idol_.  It was pretty obvious who the good singers were right of the bat (and Peter, who was roped into doing it, was not one of them).  After the wii-Simon _embarrassed_ Peter, he gave up and settled with watching.  What was once a very serious note changed to a light-hearted, happy atmosphere, and the night continued on this high.

Halfway through watching Gwen and Flash battle it out in a tennis match (a pretty heated one, too), Peter went to stand with MJ.  She hadn’t been participating in any of the games yet.  Instead, she took a spot near the entrance of the kitchen, leaning against the wall and watching the team.  For someone who was always so serious, so closed up, she looked pretty happy.  When Peter came over to her side, she looked even happier.

“Sorry about my dad,” MJ said.  “I guess I should have told him that we hadn’t told anyone yet.”

Peter shrugged.  “Oh well.  Just glad it’s out there and we don’t have to worry about keeping it a secret or anything.  Are you unhappy that the team knows?”

MJ shook her head.  “Not really.  I was just worried because I didn’t want to hear crap from anyone about it.”

They paused their conversation for a second as everyone rooting for Gwen yelled out in victory.  When the room had settled down and the next players started their game, Peter seized the opportunity.  He pulled out the small little box still hidden in his pocket.  “I know we said no gifts,” Peter started, thankful that the team was currently occupied with Abraham preparing to bowl, “but I got this for you anyway.”

Peter handed the box over but MJ didn’t open it right away.  “Oh… I didn’t get you anything…”

“You didn’t have to,” Peter said, quickly.  “Don’t worry about it, either.  I was just walking past a store and I saw this.  Go on.  Open it.” 

Still looking pretty guilty, MJ pulled the top of the box open.  It wasn’t a fancy bracelet by any means, nor was it that expensive, but it was still in good shape.  The little pendant looked shiny and pristine.  Wasn’t banged up or anything.  It was very simple, though, so Peter was a little relieved when MJ’s eyes lit up.  “It’s beautiful.  Thank you.”

Peter grinned.  “Let me put in on for you,” Peter said, grabbing for the bracelet.

“Oh no.  That’s okay.  I’ll manage,” MJ said quickly.

Peter didn’t listen.  He reached for her sleeve and just barely pushed it up when he saw a set of dark purplish bruises on her foreman.  “Hey.  What happened?” Peter asked.

MJ paused for a second while she stared at the bruises.  “My dumbass thought it would be a good idea to crash a college party this weekend,” she admitted after a long second.  “Some drunk guy got a little handsy but it was nothing I couldn’t handle.”  She rummaged through her pocket, grabbed hold of her lanyard and waved a bottle of pepper spray a couple of times.  “I’ll admit it may not have been my best idea to use pepper spray but it got him away from me.”

Peter raised an eyebrow.  “Guess I don’t need to worry about you walking home by yourself anymore.”

“If anything I should be worried about you,” MJ joked.  “What are you going to do if you have to fight off four college guys?”

Peter grinned.  “I bet I could take care of myself.  And you went to a party when you were still recovering from the stomach flu?  That wasn’t very smart.”

MJ shrugged.  “It wasn’t as bad as yours I don’t think.”  She met eyes with Peter.  Her expression was light-hearted, like she didn’t have the care in the world.  That look was rare on her, and Peter loved it.

“Are you two done flirting back there because we’re still waiting on MJ to kick Peter’s ass at something?” Flash suddenly said.

That was their cue to join the conversation with the rest of the team.  Because MJ seemed pretty resistant to playing any of the games, it took the entire team to convince her to do _American Idol_.  Despite getting humiliated before, Peter agreed to compete against her.  In all honesty, Peter wasn’t much competition.  Peter tried to sing the song _Breakaway_ by Kelly Clarkson.  Not only was Peter off tempo almost the entire time, his pitch was totally off.  When MJ went, he knew he was going to lose the minute she hit the first note perfectly.  As the night progressed, Peter came to realize that MJ could also sing.  Very well, not to mention.  After a few more rounds of _American Idol_ , Mr. Harrington called it a night. 

Since MJ’s father dropped her off and hadn’t made plans to pick MJ up, MJ got a ride with Peter, Gwen and Ned.  Peter settled in the back beside her, still smiling.  It was a short drive to MJ’s house and Gwen pulled in front of her driveway in no time.  The only light that Peter could see was inside her house.  No porch lights.  No streetlights lighting up the path to MJ’s house.  “I’ll walk you to your door,” Peter said, unbuckling himself and jumping out before MJ could protest.  The two walked up to MJ’s front door in silence, a comfortable silence nonetheless.  “Did you have fun tonight?  Was it everything that you expected it to be?”

MJ rolled her eyes.  “Yeah.  Kind of wish I wasn’t late, though.”

“Doesn’t matter.  Your dad was getting you a jacket.  That’s a good thing.”

MJ nodded.  “Right…”  She glanced at the front door, back at the bracelet and then to Peter.  Quickly, she leaned forward and kissed Peter.  Her lips brushed against his only momentarily, obviously embarrassed judging by the bright red color of her skin.  “I’ll — I’ll text you,” she stammered before rushing to her doorway.

“I’ll — yeah, okay…” Peter barely managed.  He was still in shock the entire way back his apartment.


	6. Falling Apart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! Here's another chapter. Hope you guys have a great Thanksgiving (if you celebrate) and eat lots of good food :)

  _“Adrenaline has always_

_been my thing.”_

_~ Tom Holland ~_

Chapter Six: Falling Apart

“Do you have everything you need?” May asked.  She was hovering at the doorway in front of Peter’s room, arms crossed as she watched her nephew dig through the freshly folded laundry.  It was Christmas Eve morning, and Peter and May were doing last minute packing for Tony’s place.  With Ben and both May and Peter’s parents gone as well as May’s older sister living on the other side of the country, Peter and May normally spent the holidays with just themselves.  That was alright.  They had their own traditions — a marathon of all the _Home Alone_ movies, regardless of how random and cheesy the sequels were, and lots and lots of hot chocolate — but they were both excited to have company.  From what Peter heard, the Compound is pretty lonely without the other team members (it wasn’t like Tony could just call Captain America up for Christmas Eve) so Tony and Pepper were just as excited to have company beyond just Vision and Rhodes.

“Don’t you think we’re over-packing?” Peter asked as he neatly folded up a third sweater.  “We’re only there for a couple of days and Tony has an entire closet of clothes just for me.”

“Better safe than sorry,” May said.  She picked up his blue sweater.  “And you need to get another one of these.  There’s a hole at the bottom of this.”

“It’s my favorite sweater,” Peter said.

He snagged it back from his aunt and went to throw it into his duffel bag.  Along with a suitcase for each of them, May brought another suitcase just for presents.  Peter and May couldn’t afford crazy expensive gifts (not to mention Tony already _had_ all these amazing, expensive things), but they got what they could afford.  Shopping for Tony and Pepper, however, was easy.  When faced with the task of getting Vision and Rhodes gifts, that was a different story.  Having only met those two a couple of times, Peter didn’t know what to get them.  It’s not like there’s a guide online about what kind of a gift to get an android who has celebrated Christmas _once_.  Hopefully, Vision liked historical books and old-fashioned knick-knacks.

After stopping on the road to get some breakfast and coffee, Peter and May were off to the compound, a long drive, too.  May had only been to the compound once, and that was because she had to deal with the fallout of the Sokovia Accords and what that government document meant to Spider-Man.  Tony gave her directions but this place was well-off the beaten track so Peter had to rely on his memory to guide May through the backroads until they saw the opening where the compound stood.  Since it was so large (and most importantly, it was supposed to be the professional headquarters for the Avengers, a place in which government meetings happen frequently), Tony didn’t decorate the outside with any Christmas decorations.  Happy Hogan was waiting outside, shivering, standing there simply to direct May to the right parking spot — right outside of the first garage door.  She threw the car in park just as Happy came over to open the door for her.

“How you doing, May?” Happy said as he held the door open for her.

“Thanks,” May said, politely.  “I’m doing great.”

She and Happy met Peter by the trunk of the car where the teenager was already unloading the suitcases; Happy offered to carry May’s inside the compound.  They rushed to the front door, eager to get out of the freezing weather.  Tony and Vision were already waiting, Tony smiling welcomingly in a nice button-up shirt.  Vision was still smiling, still greeting the two guests with every form of politeness.

Vision was… a _weird_ looking dude.  Bright red skin with those greenish gray designs framing the top and sides of his forehead, the gem — the _infinity stone_ that Tony tried to explain to Peter a couple of times — sitting in the center of his forehead.  Though Peter barely understood what Vision _is_ , Peter still liked him.  Since Vision was an android and not a real person, Vision didn’t always understand the ins and outs of being a human.  He’s learning.  Peter knows that.  Losing half the Avengers team during the civil war was hard on Vision.  That despair, that _sadness_ , that realization that you miss your _friends_ , were human traits that hit Vision harder than he expected.

“I hope your drive went well,” Vision said, extending a hand to take the suitcase from May.

“Oh.  Thanks,” May said as she relinquished her suitcase to Vision.  “Wasn’t too bad.  We didn’t get lost, which was good.” 

Vision didn’t know what to say next, and Peter could tell he was at a loss based on the clueless expression on his face.  “I’ll take your bags to your room,” Vision said.

“That’s really alright—,” May started.  No use.  Vision took hold of her and Peter’s bags without either of them managing much of a protest.  Peter and May watched as Vision headed for the spiral staircase and went to the higher floors.  With Vision gone, May turned back to Tony.  “Thank you for having us over.”

“It’s no problem, really,” Tony said, putting his hand on May’s shoulder.  “It’s been pretty quiet recently so it’s nice to have guests.”

Peter distinctly heard the sound of heels and then Pepper Potts came into view.  “Oh!  You guys are right on time!” Pepper said, going to Tony’s side.  According to Tony, they have their speed bumps around the time of the Sokovia Accords.  Sometimes, Pepper and Tony weren’t living together — they weren’t even on talking terms at one point in their relationship.  But now, their relationship was better than ever and that brought comfort to Peter.  “Did Vision already grab your bags?”

“Yeah,” Peter said. 

“Oh okay.  Peter, I’m assuming you already know where you’re staying,” Pepper said, “but May, would you like me to give you a tour around the compound?”

“That’d be great actually,” May said.  “I haven’t been here in a while.”

Both women went up the flight stairs to the second floor, which left Tony and Peter.  “Why don’t we head into the living room?”

“Alright,” Peter said, absent-mindedly, following Tony into the open kitchen/living room area.

Based on the exterior of the compound, Peter didn’t expect much decorations, but he couldn’t have been more wrong about that assumption.  A massive Christmas Tree stood in the corner of the living room, decorated with red, gold and clear glass ornaments, wrapped with silver tinsel and brightly lit; underneath were piles of perfectly wrapped presents.  Other than the tree, the entire place was decked out.  An added layer of red curtains that had white snowflakes covered the usual thin light gray curtains; red pillows with a snowman on the front thrown casually on the couch; stockings hung over the fireplace (there was a stocking for both Peter and May); a wreath hung over the hearth.  Not to mention the place smelled great, like gingerbread and apple pie and Christmas Trees.

Tony and Peter went to the sit on the couches.  “Smells good in here.  What’s on the menu for tonight?” Peter asked.

“Lobster ravioli, I think,” Tony said.  “Pepper was really excited to do some cooking for actual guests today so I won’t be doing much in the kitchen.”

“Oh okay.  That sounds—” Peter started.

He never got the chance to finish his sentence because in came a very angry looking James Rhodes, phone shoved up against his ear.  Considering the partial-paralysis and how difficult the road to recovery was going to be for Rhodes, he was doing pretty well, able to walk for short distances.  Tony came up with a modernized version of biometric legs that didn’t require amputation.  It was this shiny metal contraption that wrapped around Rhodes’ legs, ankles and waist.  With the amount of physical therapy and testing Rhodes had to go through, Rhodes was hardly ever around when Peter visited the compound.  Rhodes looked better than he did the last time Peter saw him too: not as dejected, not as worn-down.  But at the moment, Rhodes looked pretty pissed off about something.  “No.  No!  That wasn’t part of the plan!  You’re doing exactly what Mr. Stark didn’t want!”  He paused and then yelled, “It doesn’t say — what?  Did you pull that out of your ass, too?!”

“What’s going on?” Peter asked, leaning in closer to Tony to whisper properly.

Tony glanced in Rhodes’ direction and judging by the dark look on Tony’s face, Peter figured that it couldn’t have been anything good.  At first, Peter thought Tony was about to start a _very_ serious conversation but, instead, Peter’s mentor smiled.  “It’s a discussion that can wait for later.”

“Later?  Like…”

“Tomorrow afternoon?” Tony suggested.

In all honesty, Peter expected Tony to be a closed book about whatever was making Rhodes so upset so when Tony said that, Peter didn’t have a good response at first.  “Oh.  Yeah, sure.  Not like I have any plans,” Peter said, laughing.

Tony smiled.  “How’s it going with Michelle?  You two are going out, right?”

“Yeah.  It’s good.  Very good,” Peter said, grinning.  “I was a little bit worried at first… I’m not super great with girls but… it’s been nice.”  With the team finding out, regardless of the abrupt and unplanned way that they did, Peter and MJ didn’t feel any need to hide their relationship from anyone for any reason. She came to Peter’s apartment almost every other day for the week leading up to Christmas; it felt more natural for her to be over than it did not.  Peter liked her presence though, the ease of their conversation, the way he felt truly happy whenever she was around.  Of course Peter told May and Tony the minute MJ agreed to start sharing it with other people; Tony and May were more excited for Peter than he felt sometimes.

“Do you think you guys are going somewhere?”

Peter shrugged.  “I mean, we just started dating but I like her.  I don’t want to ruin this.”  That was another thing that Peter was constantly worried about.  Missing a date.  Putting her danger.  “How did you pull off such a good relationship with Pepper?”

Tony laughed.  “Let’s be clear we are far from having a perfect relationship.  It takes a lot of work, a lot of compromise.”

“I’m glad you guys are still together,” Peter finally said. 

“You sound like Steve,” Tony said.

“You ever think about proposing?”

Tony smiled again.  “Now you really sound like Steve.”  He heard the sound of heels clicking and Pepper and May were walking into the living room.  The two stood up just as Pepper and May walked over the threshold into the living room.  “But all the time,” he muttered into Peter’s ear as he went to greet the two women walking inside.  “What do you think of the place?”

May shrugged.  “It’s pretty nice.  _Pretty big_.”

“Well, I was supposed to have a full house here,” Tony admitted.

May and Pepper spent most of their day together, talking for hours without end in the kitchen as Pepper prepared for their big dinner celebration that night.  With May occupied, it gave Peter the chance to catch up with Tony some more on Avengers business, a conversation that Peter would have otherwise avoided if May was around.  Tony took Peter to the third floor, more of a display area in which Peter could see the ever-evolving suits of the Avengers.  When Peter was first taken on as Iron-Man’s young protégé, Peter was given the full tour of the Compound in downtown Manhattan.  He saw the behind-the-scenes look on Iron-Man’s suit, the delicate measurements and blueprints of Captain America’s shield, the mechanisms that allow for Falcon’s easy flying movement.  Complex little designs that Tony came up with.  But the building in downtown was smaller compared to this one upstate; the entire third floor consisted of multiple rooms that show-cased each Avenger’s suit.  Getting to see up close the evolution of Iron-Man’s suits throughout the years, understanding very little details of Peter’s own suit and even being able to see some of the old footage from when Black Widow was testing out new Widow’s Bites was pretty fascinating.

“What’s in this room?” Peter asked.  It was the third door on the right — normally, Peter wasn’t allowed in here.

Tony’s expression darkened. “As of right now, it’s just an empty room,” Tony admitted.

He reached forward, rattled the knob a little bit and the door creaked open.  Peter followed Tony inside what looked like a nice office: very spacious, a perfect view of the vast forest and just barely able to see the city-life happening miles and miles away; bookshelves filled with antique looking novels or encyclopedias; a brand-new desktop computer sitting on an oak table.  Other than a small picture on the desk of the Avengers team, there was hardly any personal style to this office but it was still well kept.  There wasn’t any dust accumulating on the desk and it looked like the floor had been vacuumed recently.

Peter went to pick up the photo on the desk.  Judging by Natasha Romanoff’s short hair and that god-awful, cheesy Captain America suit, Peter assumed this photo was taken around the time of the Manhattan attack.  “Is this your office?” Peter asked.

Tony shook his head.  “No.  It’s, uh, it’s Steve’s.  I come in here sometimes whenever I… whenever I need to think.”

Peter set the photo done.  “Steve?  As in war-criminal Captain America Steve Rogers?”

Again with that dark, heavy look on Tony’s face that made Peter instantly regret asking to go inside the office.  “Steve liked having his own space.  Plus, he did most of the paperwork and conference calls when he was… It’s just — it’s just in case.  You never know when they’re going to come back.”

“ _When_?” Peter asked, hesitantly.  While the two of them have discussed the aftermath of the Team Cap/Team Iron-Man fight, it wasn’t like they had these heart-to-heart conversations often.  Discussing Captain America with Tony was like discussing how often Peter gets shot at during rounds with May.

Tony shrugged.  He went to take a seat in the plush, leather swivel chair.  “The kind of _relationship_ that comes with putting your life on the line to stop global catastrophe like Cap and me isn’t ruined easily.  I don’t expect us to be resolving issues any time soon, but I’m not ready to think that this — this _fight_ we had has ruined the Avengers.”

“If Captain America doesn’t turn in the Winter Soldier, do you think you’ll ever be able to make up?” Peter asked.

“I don’t — I don’t know,” Tony finally admitted.  “Zemo — you know Zemo, right?”

Peter shook his head.  “The guy that framed Bucky Barnes, right?  Something about his family being killed in Sokovia?”  Again, he knew very little about what happened: Tony briefly filled Peter in but not in a very detailed fashion.  The name Zemo was mentioned a couple of times, but not enough for Peter to fully comprehend the complexity of the situation.

“Even after we figured out Zemo’s plan, he still managed to tear us apart.  Told me _secrets_ about the Winter Soldier’s past,” Tony whispered.  He pressed his fingers against his forehead in exasperation before getting up from the chair.  “The Winter Soldier was a Hydra sleeper agent.  Did some nasty things for Hydra.”  Peter assumed that — when covering World War II in his history class, his teacher briefly mentioned what kind of organization Hydra was, as well as the influence Captain America and the Howling Commandos had on the war.  “Cap still stood by his side, even after he learned what the Winter Soldier — what his _friend_ did… Pissed me off at the time and I’m still not over it.  Don’t know if I ever will be…”

Peter looked into the older man’s eyes.  Even at a fleeting glance, Peter could see what the years of fear and stress and nightmares had done on Tony Stark.  The media, the on-lookers that hear about what the Avengers do, always remember how much Mr. Stark had screwed up: how his weapons ended up in the wrong hands, the fact that Tony created Ultron, how Tony was always blamed every time something goes wrong with the Avengers.  What people don’t understand is _why_.  Why Tony created Ultron — out of the desire to keep the world from major threats and to make sure that it wasn’t the Avengers, _his friends_ , risking their lives.  Everyone seemed to forget how terrifying it is to be in a fight against someone or something that wants to annihilate the world.  And no one seems to understand the fact that Tony lost his family because of the divide created by the Sokovia Accords.  No one remembers that Tony Stark is not only Iron-Man, but also a human being.

That being said, Tony wasn’t perfect.

“I don’t know what Bucky did to piss you off this much,” Peter started, “but you said it yourself: _Hydra_ made the Winter Soldier do that.  It wasn’t Bucky who had control.”  Tony didn’t respond so Peter kept going.  “Do you blame Clint Barton for all the innocent people he killed when he was possessed by Loki?  Or Banner when the Scarlet Witch got a hold of him?  How many people did those two kill because someone else made them?  How is that any different than what happened with Bucky?”

Sighing, Tony said, “It’s… It’s complicated.”  Peter didn’t respond right away.  The silence persisted for another minute but that was okay — Peter didn’t want to push the man any further than he already had.  “You know, for a fifteen-year-old, you’re pretty smart.”

That was a good indication that the conversation was over.  Peter followed Tony out of the office, the door of which remained shut for the rest of the day.  It was a good change of mood when Tony took Peter back into the inventing room where they worked on coming up with a new design for the next Iron-Man suit.  They took their lunch up there to keep working for the entire day until FRIDAY, Tony’s AI, let the two of them know that Pepper wanted them in the kitchen for dinner.  They could smell the food all the way from the second floor so Peter didn’t mind leaving the inventing for later.  They washed their hands in the downstairs bathroom before heading to the kitchen.  May, Rhodes and Vision were sitting at the island, a bottle of wine open and a platter of bread and what looked like some fancy cheese spread sitting out front.  Pepper was still stirring something over the stove.

“Smells great!” Tony said.  He went to Pepper’s side and kissed her forehead.

“How are our little grease monkeys doing?” Pepper asked.  “What were you guys doing up there?”

“Just working on some Avengers stuff,” Tony said, grinning.

It was nice to see the levity back in Tony’s eyes after the heavy conversation Peter forced him to have in Cap’s office.  Peter tried to imagine what the Compound might have been like if the entire Avengers team was here.  Peter could picture Pepper and Steve cooking an elaborate, all-American dinner; Wanda and Natasha, with their Sokovian and Russian descent, respectively, may have cooked up some more authentic dishes.  Bucky and Sam would probably have sports game on — they seem like those kinds of people.  It would be like one dysfunctional but _loving_ family putting aside their differences, as they had many, to have a nice couple of nights together.  It didn’t seem right having the compound be so empty during a time that was supposed to be about family and happiness.

Dinner that night was an elaborate feast: homemade lobster ravioli, this Brussel sprout cranberry salad, expensive wine (sparkling cider for Peter), steamed vegetables, mashed potatoes and ciabatta bread.  Peter felt like royalty the way he was dining tonight in the formal dining room, using the expensive China.  Christmas music played softly in the background, though it felt like the conversation never died.  May, who normally found herself only conversing with Tony whenever something happened with Peter, seized the opportunity to have a civil conversation with Rhodes, Vision and Tony about the day-to-day life of an Avenger.  When she ran out of questions, the conversation shifted to how Peter’s sophomore year was going and then about May’s job.  When dessert rolled around — Rhodes’s homemade chocolate mousse — Peter thought his stomach was going to burst he was so full.  They ended the night with watching _Home Alone_ , a classic.

When the movie was over, Tony showed May and Peter to their respective bedrooms.  May’s bedroom was the first room on the second floor.  “Oh!  I need to lay out the presents!” May exclaimed when she saw that the extra suitcase she and Peter brought was still in her bedroom, untouched.  She grabbed the suitcase and left before Tony or Peter could offer to do it instead.

“When was the last time you had company over for Christmas?” Tony asked.

Peter shrugged.  “Not for a while.  You?”

“I don’t exactly have the greatest relationship with my family so…” Tony muttered.  They were in front of Peter’s door, but Tony didn’t look like he was going to leave any time soon.  “You’ll be alright tonight?  No… no bad dreams or anything?”

Peter grimaced, glancing into his room.  The bed was made and it looked like the room had been pretty deeply cleaned since the last time Peter had been here.  Didn’t change the fact that Peter could still distinctively remember the way that the sheets were thrown carelessly across the ground, the way that the room looked, _felt_ when he could have sworn that the Vulture was hovering right over him.  Ever since the nightmare that night, though, he hasn’t had another one.  Hasn’t thought about how terrifying and real everything around him felt.

“I’ll be okay,” Peter reassured.  “I’ll see you tomorrow morning, yeah?”

Tony nodded.  “Yeah.  Don’t worry about setting an alarm, either.  You should sleep in.”

Peter gave Tony a wide smile before walking into his bedroom and closing the door behind him.  He felt his heart race faster as the memories of the last time he was here came flooding back to him but Peter suppressed it.  _It’s not real.  It’s_ not _real_ , Peter kept telling himself.  He went to his suitcase where he pulled out some sweats and t-shirt to change into.  To give his mind something to focus on, Peter turned on the TV for mindless noise before he crawled into bed and fell into sleep.  He slept dreamlessly, _thank god,_ and he woke the next morning, excited for the day.

Peter was the last one to wake up.  The others were already preparing for that morning’s festivities: Tony was finishing up breakfast, May was helping to set up the table and Pepper was putting on _How the Grinch Stole Christmas_ , another classic.  They had eggs benedict for breakfast, eggs poached to perfection, hollandaise sauce bursting with flavor at every bite.  When breakfast was over, and after Peter helped to clear the dishes and put the leftovers away, they went to the living room to open presents.  It was a morning of merriment in which the group enjoyed spending time with each other as they tore through their presents.  In Peter’s stocking, Tony jokingly had given his protégé little bobble-head figurines of all the Avengers and in May’s stocking was a beautiful, most likely _expensive_ pair of diamond earrings.  It wasn’t like Tony expected expensive gifts from the two of them and he was very gracious for the gifts Peter and May got him, but that didn’t stop Peter from feeling a little guilty every time Tony spoiled him.

“This is beautiful!” Pepper exclaimed as she went to open up the small set of China May bought for her. 

They were about finished opening presents, and Peter was surrounded with new clothes, new movies, lots and lots of gifts that Peter would be forever grateful for getting.  “Thanks for having us over,” May said again; she was still holding the little case for her new earrings.  She went to pick up the wrapping paper strewn around the ground.  “Here.  Let me help.”

“Oh, it’s really alright,” Pepper said, already standing up.

Despite Pepper and Tony protesting, May helped them pick up the living room.  Peter offered to help but all the adults turned him down; instead, Peter was told to gather up his presents and bring it up to his bedroom.  Tony helped to gather up some of his presents and followed Peter upstairs.  All the way up to his room, Peter couldn’t help but grin with happiness; he felt like a little kid again, enjoying his best Christmas to date.  “Thanks for everything,” Peter said.  “Honestly, having you around makes it a lot easier juggling this double life thing.”

Tony smiled.  “It’s nice.  Really nice to have you around.”  After going upstairs to Peter’s room and dumping his presents onto his bed, Tony cleared his throat and said, “I, uh, I have something else for you.  Didn’t really want to give it to you when the others were around.”

Peter raised his eyebrows.  “Um, okay…”

Tony left the bedroom for a split second and when he returned, he was carrying a paper bag labeled _Peter Parker_.  Peter took the bag, still confused.  “Go ahead,” Tony assured.

“Okay…” Peter said.  He pulled out whatever was inside the bag and the minute he realized what this gift was, Peter thought his heart was going to burst: it was the suit that Tony offered Peter a couple months ago.  The sleek black and red one that made Peter drool.  It was beautiful, sophisticated, _powerful_ , something that looked like what a real Avenger would wear.  And Peter was holding it in his hands, was being _given_ the suit as a gift.  Peter looked up at Tony.  “You don’t mean to say…”

“It’s yours,” Tony said, laughing.  “All yours.”

“Wh — what?” Peter gasped.  He held the suit up.  “Really?  Why?  Why did you give this to me?  Not that I don’t want it — I mean, it’s great!”

Tony grinned.  “You earned it, kid.  All the good things you’ve been doing.  All the people you’ve been helping… It’s yours.  Call it the Iron-Spider suit.”

“This is…”  Peter couldn’t finish his sentence.  Amazing, powerful, fantastic, _a dream_.  But it wasn’t just the fact that Peter was excited for getting such a badass new suit.  He was excited because Tony Stark, his hero, thought that Peter was ready to elevate his fighting to a different level.  The Iron-Spider suit.  It would still feel like the original Spider-Man, but more powerful, more respected.  “Thanks, Mr. Stark.”

Tony handed Peter the mask to the Iron-Spider suit.  “I, uh, I made all those changes to the suit that you and I were talking about before, too.  Do you like the AI?  I modified her a little but she’s virtually the same.”

“That’s perfect,” Peter said, glad that Karen would still be there even with the new suit.  “Can I go try it on?”

Tony’s face hardened.  “You remember that little conversation we needed to have today?  I mentioned it yesterday.”

Peter’s mind went back to when Rhodes was on the phone.  “Oh yeah.”

“Why don’t we have that first?  And then you can mess around with the suit,” Tony said.

“Um, okay,” Peter said. 

He put the Iron-Spider suit back in the paper bag and went to follow Tony to the top floor of the compound.  The floor that contains nothing but a huge conference room in which Tony, Thaddeus Ross and the _United Nations_ had meetings to discuss the ever-changing terms of the Sokovia Accords.  The floor that would have been where Captain America and Tony Stark would debrief the Avengers on upcoming missions — if they were still a team.  Considering that the only reason Peter came to the compound was to do check-ups on his suit or to just catch up with Tony, he never had a reason to come up to the conference room.  And as Peter walked inside, breath-taken away by how pristine the cherry table, the massive flat-screen table looked, he realized just as how serious this discussion was: Vision and Rhodes were both sitting in the swivel chairs.  Why would all the active Avengers need to be here if it wasn’t something important?

“What’s going on?” Peter asked.

“Why don’t you sit down, Peter?” Tony said, gesturing toward the chair next to Vision.  Realizing that something had to be wrong, Peter didn’t say anything before he went to sit beside the other Avengers.

“Is something wrong?”

Tony glanced to Vision for support — another bad sign.  Vision, taking his cue, quickly said, “We need to talk to you about something concerning Thaddeus Ross and the Sokovia Accords.”  Peter’s heart went still for a fraction of second.  Did Spider-Man do something wrong?  Was Peter being arrested?

Peter tried to play it cool.  “W — why?  I haven’t… I didn’t do anything…”

“We know, kid,” Tony said.  That smile, that calm look on his face that he had when he was giving Peter the Iron-Spider suit was gone.  Gone and replaced with the face of man who’s gone through torture, war and a slew of other terrifying things.  This was the face of Iron-Man, not the Tony Stark Peter has grown to appreciate over the last year.  “You’re not in trouble.  We’re gonna take care of it.  It’s just — Thaddeus Ross, that jackass, he’s locking us up in a corner.”

Peter raised his eyebrows.  “What does that mean?”

“Secretary Ross has discovered a potential international problem and it’s our job to handle the situation, only Mr. Stark and I are not capable of handling the problem just ourselves.  That’s why Secretary Ross has asked for us to bring in another asset.  You.”

Peter didn’t respond at first.  “Me?”

“Yes,” Vision said.  “It’s expected that Spider-Man assists Mr. Stark and myself on an active mission this coming week.  You see, once Spider-Man signed the Sokovia Accords, there were contractual obligations that Mr. Stark and I were unaware of.”

“Don’t sugarcoat it for the kid.  Ross played us like a pack of cards,” Tony said, bitterly.  “Twisted written words like most politicians do to screw with other people.”

“We’ve been working things out,” Rhodes said, holding his hands up.

Peter’s brain couldn’t wrap around what the three Avengers were saying.  Silence followed as Peter took in the facial expressions of the three Avengers sitting in front of him: Vision and Rhodes looked like mirror images of each other, a little worried, a little anxious whereas Tony seemed flat-out pissed.  Peter would be lying if he said he wasn’t a little bit excited about the thought of going on a real mission with _Iron-Man_ and Vision where he’d be treated as another Avenger, not just a kid who needs to be watched over (it wasn’t like Peter hadn’t envisioned this or anything).  But the more Peter started thinking, the more he began to realize how high of stakes this mission must be for Ross to recruit an unknown vigilante for Accords business.  And then Peter kept thinking, _overthinking_ what this meant.  Could this be a slippery slope that would tie Peter to the Accords?  Get him in trouble if something didn’t go exactly the way Ross wanted it?  Contractual obligations — what did that even mean?

“I thought when I signed the Accords, it just meant that if I ever needed to work with you three I would be operating under Accords rules.  I didn’t think that meant…” Peter started.

“Neither did we,” Tony said.  Tony reached for the thick packet in front of Vision, what Peter now realized was the copy of the updated version of the Sokovia Accords.  It was a dense stack of paper.  Tony began thumbing through it until he pulled it open about halfway.  He skimmed through the next couples of paragraphs before he said, “Right here: ‘ _if Spider-Man is needed to work with any persons bound to the Accords, he or she must operate within the law delineated by the UN in this very document_.’” Tony closed the pages.  “Ross spouted something about how the term _needed_ implies that, as long as the council votes yes, they have the power to legally command Spider-Man to fight with us.  We’ve been appealing and fighting and no one’s been budging on it.”

“So, I help you guys out with a fight?” Peter asked.  “Um, okay.  What does that mean for me?  What would I be doing?”

Tony frowned.  “We’re still trying to figure out how to get you out of this.  I don’t want you involved—”

“If there’s a threat, I want to be able to help!” Peter said, quickly.  “Especially if the entire UN agreed that you two won’t be able to handle it alone.  I don’t want you guys getting hurt because I couldn’t handle a fight.”

Tony glared at Peter for a long second but before Tony could get another word in edgewise, Vision interjected, “Perhaps we should phone Secretary Ross and discuss the parameters of the mission.  We can make a case for why Mr. Parker should not be involved.”

“Fine,” Tony agreed.  “Go get the suit on, and use the Voice Modifier.  We’ll call him up.”

“Shouldn’t I get a say in this?” Peter said, not moving.

“Yeah, sure.  Shouldn’t Aunt May get a say, too?” Tony threatened.  “Rhodes, you want to grab her for me?”

“Okay, okay,” Peter said, putting his hands up in surrender.  “She’ll have to find out either way, anyway…” Peter muttered. 

He got up from the chair and scurried down to his bedroom to grab his suit.  He didn’t put on the Iron-Spider suit — he didn’t want a heated conversation with the Secretary of State to be the first time he was going to wear his brand-new suit.  Fortunately, Peter managed to get back to the top floor, turning on that Voice Modifier thing in the process, without running into May and Pepper.  In the conference room, the plasma TV already had the face of Thaddeus Ross on.  Peter had only seen Secretary Ross on TV giving press conferences.  Never this up close, never this _unedited,_ either.  He looked red-faced, angry and a little indignant.

“This must be him, yes?” Ross asked.

“Well, I wonder how many other people dress up like this,” Tony shot back.

“I’m presume Mr. Stark has filled you in for the upcoming mission,” Ross said.

Peter never got the chance to answer.  “No, I haven’t because he’s not coming,” Tony said; Peter settled in his chair uncomfortably.

Ross frowned.  “No, we’ve been over this multiple times.  Stated clearly in Clause Four—”

“I don’t give a damn what your clauses say.  Using Spider-Man should not be an option in this particular case,” Tony interrupted.  “Vision, essentially an invincible android, and I do not need the help of another person.  We’ve handled operations of this magnitude before — _I’ve_ handled operations like this.”

“Spider-Man’s participation has been voted and approved on already,” Ross stated, very matter-a-fact.  The way these two men discussed the situation at hand, you would think that Peter wasn’t even sitting in the room listening.  “Need I remind you Mr. Stark — and this goes for you two, Vision and Colonel Rhodes — that you signed the Sokovia Accords.  You three willingly submitted your power to the Accords Council, meaning you follow through with _your orders_.”

Not that Peter would ever dare to say anything out loud, Peter had to admit that Ross has a painfully accurate point.  It didn’t matter that Ross stretched the words of the Accords a little bit more than he legally should have — Peter wouldn’t be able to change anything, anyway.  What mattered was that it was written in the fine print that the Avengers were no longer a private organization if they agreed to sign the Accords.  The Avengers were a public entity now, controlled by this Accords council.  As much as Peter didn’t want to admit it, Tony, Vision and Rhodes put themselves in this corner.

“I agreed to accept a limitation set by what the world thinks is best,” Tony snarled.  “I did not agree to threaten the life of a—”

“Of a what?  What makes Spider-Man any different than you?  Or Rhodes?  Or the goddamn people you use to call an Avenger?” Secretary Ross said.  Peter recognized that it was bait to Tony, a clear opportunity to learn the identity of the New York vigilante.  “You answer that question, you tell me who that person is under that mask than maybe I’ll pull some strings — maybe I’ll listen to you.”

Tony’s lips were pulled back into a thin line.  “Are you threatening us?”

Secretary Ross dared to smile, even let out a throaty chuckle.  “Consider it an ultimatum.”  The conversation died, though Tony’s heavy, _angry_ breathing filled the air.  Peter thought about saying something but judging by Tony’s voice, he knew better than that.  “We’re not discussing who goes on the mission any further.”

“Then what is up for discussion?” Tony asked.

Ross frowned, eyes falling on the vigilante sitting in the swivel chair in front of him; the eager, narrowed eyes of Secretary Ross appeared as if he was trying to discover Peter’s identity through the mask.  “There isn’t much up for discussion,” Ross sneered.  “I sent a briefing packet to your inbox, Mr. Stark.  You should’ve already read through it.”

“Oh yeah, I was little bit preoccupied.  Never had the chance,” Tony muttered.

“Typical,” Ross muttered.  “Doesn’t matter.  Why don’t you have your AI — what’s her name, _Tuesday_ — pull up the file on some of these screens.”

“It’s _FRIDAY_ ,” Tony sneered through gritted teeth.  “FRIDAY, can you pull up the file Ross sent me on the big screen, please?”

“Will do, boss,” the AI said.

A second later, a document with small print pulled up on half the screen.  Peter glanced through it for a couple of seconds, the words: _Britain, Secret Empire, danger level: high_ jumping out from the screen.  It appeared that Peter was the only person interested in skimming through the first page of the file because Tony, Vision and Rhodes’s attention was trained on Secretary Ross.  “If you had read the file like you were supposed to, you would have known that a few days ago, Everett Ross received top secret intel that the headquarters to an international criminal organization called the Secret Empire was found to be located in Britain, more specifically a town called Grand South-Leeds.”  The document was replaced with a map of Britain, a pin dropping just south of Blackpool. The screen split again to show images of a rundown, most likely abandoned little village.  Pipes were rusted, buildings broken down, plants dead.

“Looks lovely,” Tony muttered, legs crossed and leaning back casually in his chair.  Was this how Tony always operated when Captain America gave the team a debrief?  Or was it different because this was Secretary Ross?

“It’s a ghost-town,” Ross clarified.  “Explorers founded the place out of the ridiculous belief that gold mines were here.  When people realized there was nothing here but dirt and dead plants, the place cleared out fast.  Those who stayed were hit hard with famine, polluted water supply, the works.  No one’s lived here for the past 100 years and it’s so far off the beaten track, it doesn’t receive a lot of tourist attention, either.  The perfect place to set up for a crime organization.”

“And what exactly is the Secret Empire?” Peter tentatively asked.  It was the first time he tried using the Voice Modifier, and he didn’t like it.  It reminded him of that voice from Enhanced Interrogation Mode: too deep, obviously unnatural.

Ross noticed too but at the very least, he didn’t say anything.  “A criminal organization which had deep ties with Hydra.  A few years ago, during the DC Incident and the following months while the Avengers, _you_ ,”—Ross pointed to Tony—, “were trying to locate Loki’s scepter, we discovered that one of the reasons why your former team was having such a difficult time tracking the scepter was because the Secret Empire was creating false leads.  They were the middle man.  What they used to be responsible for wasn’t that important, but now that Hydra is gone, the Secret Empire has been making a name for themselves.  Stealing nuclear or biological weapons, inciting warfare, breeding chaos.  They’ve been recruiting people who are on the International Threat List.  The UN believes that it would best suited for the Avengers to take care of this issue.  The headquarters is pretty well removed so there will be minimal civilian casualties if you’re worried about that.”

“But we’ll be deep in enemy territory, which means a big fight, which means a huge risk for one of us getting hurt,” Tony said.

 _Or for killing someone_ , Peter thought to himself.

“Fighting is inevitable with these sorts of missions,” Ross said.  “Regardless, the UN has been working on coming up with precautionary measurements in case the fighting spirals of control.  We’ll set a perimeter to keep anyone from getting away, block of roads that might lead close to the fighting zone.”  Though Peter still found himself on the fence with the Sokovia Accords, the way that the government seemingly forgot the violence that it’s created itself, not to mention how many Avengers have saved, this was part of the Accords he appreciated.  The fact that missions were better planned and how more precautions were being laid out.  While the Avengers were never dismissive of civilian death, these sorts of measurements never happened to the extent the Sokovia Accords allows.

“Do you have the layout of the village?  Or the coordinates of the headquarters?” Vision asked.

Ross nodded.  A couple seconds later and a birds-eye view of the village showed up on camera.  “Everett Ross’s team will send you the coordinates for the drop zone.  The headquarters will be just north of the drop-zone.  Again, if you had read the file I sent you, you would already know this information.”

Tony shrugged.  “When Cap ran these debriefs, he didn’t need a 100-page document to get his point across.”

Secretary Ross gritted his teeth.  “Moving on.  We’ve already scoped out the headquarters pretty thoroughly.”  Again, the map of the village shifted, replaced by blueprints of the headquarters.  “The first floor is mostly comprised of living quarters: bedrooms, a cafeteria, showers.  The higher up you go, the more important the room: ammunition or artillery rooms, computer rooms, maps, testing center for human experimentation.  There isn’t much left for me to go over since I’m sure you three would want to plan out the specific details of your mission but your primary goal is infiltrate their headquarters, clean house, apprehend as many Secret Empire agents as you can get.  Once you’ve established control over headquarters, Everett Ross and his task force will come in and oversee arrests made.”

“What areas of headquarters will have the least amount of agents?  Be the least dangerous?” Tony asked.

Ross shrugged.  “It depends.  Of the men who stay near headquarters, they’re divided into two groups: men who operate during the day and men who are out during the night to do some of the dirtier work.  The night shift begins at 1:00am, which means that most agents will be up in the third floors prepping for their missions.  The bottom floor will most likely be the emptiest.”

Tony frowned.  “If that’s the case, Spider-Man can sweep rooms in the bottom, Vision will start at the top and I’ll get FRIDAY to upload files from the computer room before meeting up with Spider-Man.”  Peter knew why Tony was putting him in the bottom floor but right now, Peter didn’t mind; as this conversation continued, the more and more Peter began to realize how _serious_ this mission was. 

“If that’s what you think is best…” Ross said.

“What about restrictions?” Vision asked.  “Does the UN want to set any limitations on our… fighting tactics?”

“Considering the sheer amount of firepower Secret Empire agents are likely to have, coupled with the fact that these men are highly dangerous and there will be minimal civilian contact, the three of you are allowed to use whatever means necessary to accomplish the mission,” Ross said, evenly, as though the prospect of being merciless was normal.  “We’ll be setting up our defenses at around 11:30, so bank on making it to the drop-zone by midnight. Which means—”

“FRIDAY?” Tony interrupted.  “Calculate the best time to leave for Grand South-Leeds.”

“Noon,” FRIDAY answered.

“Well, there we have it,” Tony said, looking back at the screen with Ross.  “Is there anything else you need to tell us?  Or can we discuss logistics amongst ourselves?”

Ross narrowed his eyes.  “Just read the packet.  Leave tomorrow.  We don’t want to risk the Secret Empire finding out about our heist.”  The call went dead, the plasma scree going blank.

“Is that normally how debriefs happen?” Peter tentatively asked when none of the grown-ups — the _adult_ , very experienced Avengers Peter was suddenly starting to see them as — said anything.

Tony shrugged.  “Recently, yes, not that Ross calls on us to do jobs all that often.  The Avengers lost a lot of its appeal now that Steve, America’s golden boy, turned into a war-criminal.  Something about how our job can corrupt even the purest of humans.  Anyway, it’s normally Cap giving us a run through on the job and then we load up on the Quinjet.  No need to wait for a politician to file paperwork and dot all the Ts.”

“This is what you agreed to, though, right?” Peter said.

“Yeah… I suppose…” Tony said.

“The paperwork-political side of the Sokovia Accords none of us are fans of,” Rhodes clarified.  “The precautions set, however, are a side to the Accords that Cap should have understood.”

Peter didn’t argue on that point, especially since he knew that starting another argument over the Accords would be a waste of breath.  That one document has already damaged the Avengers and their morale enough, Peter didn’t need to add to that fire.  Besides, he had bigger concerns at the moment and going on his big first mission wasn’t one of them.  “Uh, Mr. Stark, who’s going to be the one to tell May?”

* * *

Come Friday, May was a nervous wreck.  After dinner Christmas night, Peter, Vision, Tony and Rhodes sat May down at the dinner table and explained the situation; the four of them tried to be as explicit as possible that Peter didn’t have much of a choice with going on the mission.  They let May vent for an hour until Vision and Pepper managed to get her to calm down.  Now, the day of their mission, she was falling apart again.  Almost every half hour, Tony and Vision had to reassure her that they would keep Peter safe, that they would do the brunt of the work and Peter would just be there for support.  Peter didn’t necessarily like that idea, not when he thought it was just as much of his responsibility to keep Tony and Vision safe as it was their responsibility to protect him.  But Peter wasn’t stupid enough to say that.

“I’ll be okay, May,” Peter said.  He was about to board the Quinjet, and for a second, Peter didn’t think his aunt was going to let him go at all.  “You had to have known that something like this might have happened.”

May frowned.  “I think it’s fair for me to say that I didn’t expect my fifteen-year-old kid to become a temporary-Avenger.”

“I’ll be alright.  I’ll text you when everything is over,” Peter said.  He was trying hard to sound confident in himself for May’s sake.  “I love you.”

May nodded.  “You call me.  You _call_ me.”

“Okay.  I will.  I promise,” Peter assured as he got onto the Quinjet.

It was about a seven-hour flight to get to Grand South-Leeds.  Though it would have been longer if they weren’t flying in the Quinjet, a private jet that outpaced even the most modern of airplanes, Peter was still restless as ever.  Peter had never flown in the Quinjet before but even the sleek, comfortable interior and the fact that this was what _the Avengers_ used to go on missions, wasn’t enough to excite Peter.  Per Tony’s request, Peter tried to get as much sleep as he could on the private jet.  That wasn’t likely.  Flying always made him a little bit uneasy, especially since the first time he’s ever been on a flight was last year when Tony brought Peter to Berlin.  Admittedly, this flight was much different.  It wasn’t a private plane (plus, Peter had to wear his new Iron-Spider suit on the flight) and Peter wasn’t planning on going to a lavish destination to do what he thought was a low-stakes fight. 

Spider-Man, Iron-Man and Vision were planning on staying in Grand South-Leeds for the least amount of time possible.  A get-in/get-out operation that was supposed to take under an hour.  Tony gave Peter a copy of that briefing packet Ross kept talking about it.  It was dense, long, exhausting.  A lot of noise, too.  At the very least, Peter had to admit that the packet was thorough, containing a detailed description of the men Everett Ross enlisted to watch the perimeter; very specific titles for the different rooms in headquarters; even a brief background on some of the higher-level agents working for the Secret Empire.

“Thirty minutes, boss,” came FRIDAY’s voice over the speaker.

Tony, who was leaning in the pilot’s seat even though the Quinjet was on auto-pilot, looked up.  He went to Peter’s side.  “How you doing?”

“A little nervous,” Peter admitted. 

“Don’t be, alright,” Tony said, though the seriousness in his voice wasn’t the least bit comforting.  “Back in the day, I did this sort of thing all the time.  Not to mention, I made some of your new suit is bullet-proof.”

“Really?” Peter asked.

“Well, not the entire suit,” Tony admitted.  “It’s at least more bullet-resistant around your lungs, heart, major organs.  It’ll be your head you’ll have to worry about but at the very least, that eliminates some threat.  Pretty difficult to make spandex bullet-proof.”

Peter smiled.  “Thanks, Mr. Stark.”

Tony tried to return the smile, but he looked so worried Peter didn’t think Tony was capable of that gesture.  “I’m not letting you get hurt on my watch.”  Tony paused and then said, “Don’t forget: let your AI scan the front doors before you go in.  Once you’re inside, you head to the right.  Don’t worry about Vision or me.  You take care of the bottom floor and you wait until I find you to head up to the higher floors.  I don’t care what you hear.  You don’t go anywhere you aren’t cleared to go without me.”  The Peter at the beginning of the year would have thought Tony was just trying to baby him, leave him out since Tony didn’t think a kid could handle himself.  The present Peter knew that was a stupid thing to think.  This wasn’t about Tony thinking that Peter wasn’t capable — Tony knew that Peter could be killed, knew that these people didn’t care who died as long as the Secret Empire stayed on its feet. 

“Would you like for Mr. Stark or me to help you off the plane?  Or do you prefer using your webs?” Vision asked.  “It’s just that we’re near the drop-zone.”

“Right… And by drop-zone you mean what I think you mean…” Peter said.

“We can’t exactly land the Quinjet in the middle of this place.  Wouldn’t bode well if our ride gets compromised by these people,” Tony said.  “How about you let me to take you down?”

“Guess it doesn’t matter,” Peter said.

He pulled the mask to the Iron-Spider suit over his head to help block out the millions of different distractions swirling around Peter.  The eyelids of the suit zoom in out a couple of times before pulling back and settling in.  Meanwhile, the blue-tech lights in his suit began to analyze the area around him: take in x-rays of the boxes inside the Quinjet to reveal the contents inside; run facial recognition on Tony and Vision, identifying them as their respective selves; calculating Peter’s latitude and longitude and even the temperature outside.  It was very similar to how his old suit ran.  Felt the same way, too.  With the mask on, Peter can focus a little bit better.  He knew Vision wasn’t likely to be hurt, especially since Vision could manipulate his body mass so that bullets go through him (even if he didn’t that, it wasn’t like bullets had any serious effect on the android).  Tony seemed worried, though, and Peter wasn’t entirely sure if Tony was worrying over himself right now.

“100 feet from the drop-zone,” Vision said.  Something in the back of Peter’s brain was telling him that the Quinjet was coming to a slow.

“Open the hatch,” Tony said.  He clicked the button on the side of his suit’s helmet and the Iron-Man mask came spiraling out, covering his face.  Tony turned to Peter and put an arm around him.  “Better you let me get you down there.  One less thing you have to worry about.”

The hatch opened up to reveal that the Quinjet was hovering high above the run-down village of Grand South-Leeds.  Ross was accurate when he characterized the place as a ghost town.  There wasn’t a building in sight that didn’t look like it was crumbling at the seams.  But the fact that civilization hadn’t seemed to exist in this place for so long made it look all the more unsettling, all the more _dangerous_.  Like the place was haunted and it was just waiting for the next couple of people to show up so that whatever entity permeated the place could claim its next victim.

“You keep hold of me,” Tony said.

“Mr. Stark!” Vision exclaimed.

 _Iron-Man_ didn’t waste another second, and the next thing Peter knew, he was being flown to the ground.  It felt like déjà vu, the way that Tony guided Peter to the ground safely, like the time Adrian Toomes threw Peter so callously into a lake.  Peter vividly remembered that night…

 _Focus_ , he reprimanded.

Tony landed on the ground, smoothly, letting Peter go just in time for the kid to catch his balance on the ground.  Vision was right beside them, eyes narrowed as the android took in the sight around him.  Peter was too afraid to even breathe loudly as he let himself focus on the buildings around him.  He listened out for the sound of someone, _anyone_ shifting around in a building, moving forward to attack the three Avengers.  The silence persisted for a long second.

“Karen,” Peter whispered, even more appreciative than before that Tony decided to leave the AI in Peter’s suit, “scan for—”  

“Hostiles in the church to your left!” Karen yelled.

The spider-senses went off before Karen finished her sentence.  Peter shot a web at Tony just in time to throw his mentor to the ground.  Some kind of powerful gun, an RPG, Peter assumed, was shot off toward the three Avengers right toward where Tony had been hovering.  Behind them, one of the buildings exploded into a million pieces, debris flying, crashing into the area around them.  Vision, unfazed, propelled himself forward.  The infinity stone in the center of his head beamed a high-powered laser directly toward the area in which the RPG was fired.  Seconds later, the building came crashing down.  Peter’s senses were going crazy, as if threats were swarming after him from every direction.  Was this what it was like to fight with the Avengers?  A world around him filled with flames and victims and explosions?  With death?

“Kid, we gotta move!” Tony said.  “Headquarters are right in front of us and we’re going to meet heavy — fire…”

Tony grunted at that last word just as a blast of bullets came crashing against his suit.  His repulsors went off with a bang.  More explosions, more buildings go falling.  Smoke blew in the air and as it died down, Peter finally got a good look at the threats around him.  Men dressed in black came swarming out of buildings, down streets, repelling off of helicopters, guns ablaze.  They were moving fast toward the three of them, and Peter thought he was going to start panicking.  It wasn’t like he hadn’t been in a fight with guns before, but nothing to this scale.  Nothing with semi-automatic guns.  Nothing with this many guys coming together just to kill him.

“You remember what we talked about?” Tony said.  “Keep your distance.  Don’t stop moving!”

Peter didn’t need to be told otherwise.  Once the bullets started flying, once the men began to emerge on the three of them, Peter was already leaping away, dipping and swerving to avoid the bullets.  His webs were going off in a blur of white, throwing hostiles aside, getting them caught in webs.  Despite the unexpected amount of resistance they were running into, Peter thought the plan was going okay: Tony and Vision were tearing through the enemy lines and Peter was doing his part effectively.  The headquarters was nothing more than what looked like a massive stone castle sitting near the borders of the city.  Peter swung from building to building to keep up with Vision and Iron-Man blasting their way to the front door.  When headquarters came into sight, Peter handled the men out front while Tony worked to get the door down.

Peter went right like he was expected to, like Tony ordered.  Peter was supposed to be responsible for handling the living quarters.  It was supposed to be relatively empty, perhaps a few stragglers trying to catch up on some sleep after a long night or people who had the day off.  Not a lot of potential threats.  Clear the place out and then meet up with Tony so that Peter could start saving intel.  Peter was supposed to be given the easy job.  _Supposed to be_.  Only when Peter rounded the corner, he realized that he was walking into a hotbed of gunfire.

When the first splay of bullets went spiraling toward Peter, the spider-senses kicked in at unbelievable rate.  He reacted without thinking, moved without his brain telling him to.  It was pure instincts that made Peter jerk to the left, the bullets hitting the back wall with a deafening boom.  He took only a second to gather his bearings, to register the fact that he was standing in the middle of a massive, gym-size room with rows of _occupied_ bunkbeds in front of him.  As the men in the Secret Empire came to realize that there was a threat standing in front of them, they were scrambling to get out of their bed.  Sheets were flying into the open air.  Guns were being yanked out of places guns _shouldn’t_ be kept.  And Peter was absolutely vulnerable, standing in front of at least twenty men with automatic weapons drawn.

He reacted fast.  Webs went flying just as the bullets did.  Guns were being yanked from hands, faceless men were being casted aside as grenade webs tangled them together.  But something wasn’t sitting right with Peter.  He was winning the fight, knew that he was smart enough, fast enough, _good enough_ to take these guys without breaking a sweat.

But something wasn’t sitting right.  His was heart was racing so fast it made his chest hurt.  He felt burning, _agonizing_ pain.  Like he was falling apart second by second.  Like each bullet was ripping his mind, his brain, his body into pieces even though everything was going according to plan.

 _This can’t be happening_.

But it was.  The walls were closing in.  _He was trapped_.  “T — Tony,” Peter barely managed.  Peter needed help, needed someone there but he was gasping so violently he didn’t think he had the capability to speak.

He was going to get hurt.  He couldn’t defend himself.  _He was going to get hurt._

All Peter could see was red.  Bright, bright red.  Chaos that came in waves, swirling and twisting around the men in front of Peter.  Guns dissolved.  Men went rigid.  Peter knew he wasn’t the one responsible for what was happening.  He _doesn’t know_ what’s responsible.  But that doesn’t matter right now.  He can feel himself falling, slipping out of this red, terrible world and falling toward the ground.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Grand South-Leeds is entirely made up.


	7. Traumatized

_“When we encounter an unexpected challenge of threat_

_the only way to save ourselves_

_is to hold on tight to the people around us_

_and not let go.”_

_~ Shawn Achor ~_

Chapter Seven: Traumatized

Peter felt like time held still as he laid on the ground, unmoving.  Despite the chaos that Peter knew was happening around him, the only sound he could hear was the uneven thuds of his heart beating in his chest.  He tried to pull himself together as much as he could — Tony and Vision were relying on him — but Peter couldn’t get himself to focus.  That choking sensation didn’t go away as it crippled Peter.  Even though Peter hadn’t moved, the world was spinning around him.  It took all the effort Peter had left in his body to keep himself from passing out.  He stayed frozen on the ground for what felt like hours and when Peter came to, when this sheet of fear that suddenly possessed Peter began to fade away, he still felt just as dazed and confused as before.

“Are you okay?” a voice whispered into Peter’s ear.  Though the voice was gentle, it still sounded jarring compared to how silent, _deadly_ his surroundings seemed before.  “Can you walk?”

Peter didn’t recognize the voice, either, and that made him all the more nervous.  It was a woman’s voice judging by how high-pitched it sounded.  It took a couple more seconds for Peter to piece together where he was and what was going: the men of the Secret Empire were disarmed and unconscious, littering the floor of the living quarters.  Beside some of the weapons and men clearly tangled in Peter’s web, it didn’t seem as though there was much of a fight.  And when Peter figured out who saved his ass, he realized why.  Wanda Maximoff, _the Scarlet Witch_ , one of the former Avengers who allied herself with Captain America, was standing over Peter.  She was still dressed in the same uniform she wore at the German airport, that red-caped, leather-pants outfit.  A hint of red still lingered in her eyes and, even though Peter came to realize that she was responsible for stopping the Secret Empire from killing him, Peter was still terrified when he got a good look at her.

“What the hell are you…” Peter started.

Peter never had the chance to finish his sentence.  “Peter?  Kid, you alright?!” exclaimed Tony over comms.

Not taking his eyes off of Wanda, Peter answered back, “Uh, yeah.  No, I’m good.  The living quarters are clear…  I, uh, I got some help.”  Though he wasn’t sure how Tony would react to finding out that one of the former Avengers was standing in front of him, Peter figured Tony had the right to know.

“So did I,” Tony said; despite feeling out of it, Peter could still detect the underlying tone of bitterness in the back of Tony’s voice.  _Who else was here with Wanda_ , Peter thought to himself as Tony continued on to say, “Clear out the rest of the first floor and make your way up to me.  I’m going to meet up with Vision.”

The comms went silent again, leaving Peter to stare at Wanda Maximoff for a couple seconds longer.  The sheer thought of going back out there in the line of fire, facing more men with guns and facing new threats he wasn’t ready for, Peter wasn’t sure if he could do it.  But he knew that he had a job to do, that Tony and Vision needed Peter to get the job done and Peter wasn’t one to just give up either.  Peter got to his feet, grappling for one of the bed stands to pull himself up.  Wanda was no longer interested in making sure that Peter was alright: her eyes were narrowed as she watched the doorway, hands at the ready.  He couldn’t exactly call her an ally.  The enemy of his own enemy.  Being the person who Peter believed to be the most powerful Avenger on the team, Peter was torn between being comforted that he wasn’t going to have to get his hands dirty, but also worried that she might turn on him when this was all over.

“Let’s go,” Wanda ordered.  Her Sokovian accent, that mix of Eastern Europe and Russian dialect, was pretty faded compared to the interview videos she did when she was a full-fledged Avenger. 

There was no time to weigh whether or not it was safe to go with her because the spider-senses were alerting him of incoming danger.  They darted out of the living quarters into the open hallway where they were exposed to a couple more men dressed in black.  Peter disarmed them fast and Wanda blasted them against the wall.  Someone was coming around the corner just as those first three men were taken down.  Peter moved quickly, hand at the ready to punch whatever hostile was coming through the door.

“Stop!” Wanda exclaimed; Peter felt himself be thrown off by a blast of red mist.  The only interaction Peter had with Wanda’s powers was when she was flying bits of metal at him at the German airport.  This time, coming into direct contact with her powers, felt _weird_ , like invisible hands were jerking him aside.  As Peter collided into the wall, he got up fast to realize why Wanda had attacked him.  Peter was kneeling over Sam Wilson, covered in body armor, that big block of a machine that contained his wings pressed against the ground.  Peter got off the ground, glancing uneasily between two people who Peter fought not even a year ago.  “Are you alright?”

“We need to stop meeting like this,” Wilson muttered as he got to his feet.

“You did sneak up on me,” Peter said back, taking another deep breath.  “What are you guys doing here?  Who else is with you?”

“Just some friends,” Wilson said, “And we’ll explain later.  Wanda, you think you can take care of this floor?  I’ll rendezvous with Cap and Widow on the higher floors.”  _Cap?  Like Captain America?  And Black Widow?_ What the hell was going on?

“I’ll take care of it,” Wanda said, hands twitching.

Wilson glanced at Peter.  “You interested in babysitting, Wanda?”

“I can handle myself,” Peter snapped.

Wanda interrupted the banter with a stern “go” to Sam.

She glanced at the line of rooms in the following hallway and, without bothering to give Peter a heads up, went racing toward the first door.  Peter was right behind her, contemplating whether it was a good idea to go clear a different hallway or if he should stick with Wanda.  He thought it might be better and more efficient to split up but the sheer thought of being by himself, _vulnerable_ , made Peter’s legs shake.  He didn’t know what was wrong with him, why he freaked out the way he did but that wasn’t something he could worry about right now.  Not when the clear and present danger was the men waiting behind the doorways with guns at the ready.

Having someone as powerful as the Scarlet Witch by his side meant that Peter didn’t have a lot to do.  The way he disarmed men paled in comparison to the way that Wanda was able to handle herself.  It took no more than a few seconds in each room for the two of them to get their jobs done.  “First floor is clear,” Peter said as he took down the last couple of Secret Empire men with a quick fling of his web shooter.  “Where do you want me going now?”

“Floor two, four and five are clear.  Sweep up to the third.  I’ll meet you there,” Tony said.

“What orders did you get?” Peter asked, glancing at Wanda; he was already heading to the staircase and she was right on his tail.

“Go to the third.  You?” Wanda asked.

“Same,” Peter said.  “Thanks for saving my ass back there,” he added as they briskly rushed up the staircase.

“You talk too much,” Wanda muttered.

When they reached the third floor, she blasted the door wide open and Peter went flying inside.  The third floor was nightmare.  Walls that once separated different conference rooms or tech labs were broken apart, the fighting carrying out throughout all the hallways.  Peter immediately dialed in on Iron-Man kicking someone out of a room while Falcon came swooping down from above to finish that same man off.  Wanda came hurrying forward, shielding both Falcon and Iron-Man from a slew of bullets that went flying after them.  Whoever shot off all those bullets were down a second after when Iron-Man shot his repulsor.  The way the three of them fought it was clear that they had worked together, became a cohesive unit despite how different each of them were.  Seeing the way that Tony interacted with Sam and Wanda made it seem as though there never was a civil war at all.  Peter stood in the corner webbing up a few guys here and there wherever necessary but feeling altogether useless.

But when the fighting died, when Karen announced over comms that the place was clear, the tension rapidly increased as the three former teammates turned to stare at each other.  But as it turned out, Tony wasn’t interested in Sam and Wanda.  Ignoring the two former Avengers, Tony went straight for Peter.  The mask to the Iron-Man suit retracted to reveal a very angry looking Tony Stark.  “What the hell happened to you?!” Tony spluttered, obviously very distressed over something.

“What are you talking about?” Peter asked.

“Your vitals went haywire,” Tony exclaimed.  “FRIDAY was telling me that you…”  Tony trailed off.  It looked like he suddenly went pale, slowly turning to glare at Sam and Wanda as if he just came to realize that they were standing in the same room as him.  Tony pointed a finger at Wanda and snarled, “What the hell did you do to him?”

Wanda’s eyes narrowed as she rounded on Tony.  “You mean save him?”

“I know what a panic attack looks like when I see one and it started to happen to him when _you_ showed up,” Tony spat.  Tony wasn’t just making an observation… it was an accusation.  And the two words _panic attack_ were enough to send a shiver down Peter’s back.  Is that what happened?  When put in a terrible gunfight, did his body shut down on him?  Break to pieces?

Wanda wasn’t fond of the tone Tony took up.  “I didn’t do _anything_ ,” she snarled. 

“Oh, please because your word really—”

“You know what it’s like,” Wanda snapped.  Her tone of voice was heavy with anger at the accusation mixed with guilt from a past memory; Peter only briefly knew about what Wanda did to the Avengers when she was allied with Ultron.  Putting nightmares in their heads understated the situation.  “Take a good look at him and you’ll know that I didn’t do a single thing to that kid.”

Tony barely glanced in Peter’s direction.  “Then I want to know what happened back there!”  His hand was raised, repulsors lighting up as though—

“Mr. Stark,” Peter interrupted.  He lunged forward to grab hold of his mentor.  “She — it wasn’t her.  I just — I…”

“ _You what?!”_ Tony snapped.

“I collapsed!  I froze up!” Peter admitted, cheeks turning hot as he admitted his own failure.  “I took one look at those guns and I freaked… I freaked out.  If it wasn’t for Wanda, I would have been… she didn’t do anything to me!”  Tony stared at Peter, stunned, frustrated, _terrified_ even.  Just the way that Tony looked at Peter made he feel ashamed.  Like something was wrong with him because of what happened.  _What was wrong with him?_ Why couldn’t Peter get through the fight?

“What are you—…” Tony started.

“Wanda?  Sam?  Are you guys alright?” someone interrupted before the conversation could continue.  The four of them turned to look at the emerging figure.

Tony glanced behind him and tensed up immediately.  Judging by the thin line that became Tony’s lips and the angry expression on his face, whatever — or _whoever_ — Tony was looking at obviously wasn’t good news.  “Captain…”  Tony muttered, his voice thick with emotion. 

Peter spun around where he was standing to see that Wanda and Sam weren’t alone any more.  Captain America and Black Widow had come to join their two allies, Vision right behind them.  Compared to the last time Peter saw the Captain (and compared to those awful state-mandated videos Cap had to make that Midtown played religiously in class), this wasn’t the same Steve Rogers Peter had grown up to know.  The Captain’s eyes were filled with hurt and pain and terror as he stared off at Tony.  The clean-shaven fresh face of a man who used to be considered America’s Golden Boy was covered with a wispy beard and moustache that was grimy with sweat and blood.  His hair swept back over his head, so long that that shimmery gold colored hair looked dirty brown.  It wasn’t the same Captain America who donned that dorky red, white and blue suit.  That symbol of hope and freedom was gone, turned into a man who didn’t trust the people who he fought side by side with in Manhattan and Sokovia.

“Stark…” Steve whispered in the same dark tone of voice as his former friend.

The two men stared at each other for a long second, words failing them.  When neither said another word to each other, Tony took a different approach.  Looked to Black Widow and said, “Natasha.  Good to see you again.”  At least they were on more civil terms.  Though Nat didn’t spare a second to play double-agent in Germany, the fact that she still signed the Accords, that her belief system in this huge mess aligned a little bit with Tony’s, meant that civility was a little easier.  She had changed, too.  Her hair a slivery blond color now and not as short as before.  Despite the mused smile on her face, Peter recognized the stoicism under her expression.

“Tony,” Natasha said back.

The edge was still there, heavy as no one seemed to know the best way to advance the conversation.  How does a group of people recover after such pain?  Because both parties, both Captain America and Iron Man, felt like they were betrayed by the other.  How do you forget that feeling, especially when the wounds were as fresh as it was for the two of them?

“Captain Rogers, Ms. Romanoff, Wanda…” Vision greeted.  The reaction of the android was just as peculiar.  For someone who wasn’t human, it was obvious that there was some sort of fury and despair trapped in the android’s eyes.

“Vision,” Wanda responded.  What a conversation this was.

“Why are you here?” Vision asked.

“We could ask the same thing,” Natasha said back.  There was no trace of malice or anger in her voice but Peter could still tell she was defensive.

“Accords business,” Vision said, tentatively.  The word _Accords_ seemed to strike the team wrong because the tension in the air grew thicker as the conversation turned to the original source of their conflict.  “Everett Ross sent the three of us to take apart the headquarters of the Secret Empire.  What brings you four here?”

All eyes seemed to turn to Steve, though he never answered.  Clearly his throat, Sam took a step forward.  “We’ve been camping out in Wakanda for the last few months.  The Secret Empire has been creating some problems for T’Challa so he asked for us to take care of it.”

“Where’s your — your friend?” Tony dared to ask again.  “Bucky?”

Again, the tension seemed to worsen at the sound of the Winter Soldier’s real name.  “He’s on ice…,” Steve muttered.  His eyes dropped to the ground.

“Cryogenic sleep?” Tony said.  Peter learned enough about Captain America’s past to understand what that meant.  Though Bucky wasn’t technically dead, he knew Steve was mourning for the loss of his friend.  “Why?”

“Because he knew Hydra could still control him,” Steve said.

Tony and Steve stared at each other for a long, dead silent moment.  Peter tried to get a read on Tony but his face was torn between so many different emotions that it would have been impossible to fully know what was going through his head.  “I — I’m sorry,” Tony barely managed.  Again, Peter could tell how genuine Tony’s apology was.

“Mr. Stark?  Vision?  What’s the status on the headquarters?” Everett Ross asked over comms — Peter didn’t even know Ross was on comms.  The sound of his voice brought Peter, Vision and Tony back to reality as they quickly remembered they were on an active Accords mission.  “Tony?  Tony, do you copy?  Does anyone—”

“We’re here, Ross,” Tony said, quickly.  “Just there’s…”  He glanced at his former allies, the people who were once considered to be his friends.  It didn’t appear that Natasha, Wanda, Sam or Steve were interested in fighting right now, at least judging by the fact that their weapons were put away, disabled for the time being.  “There’s one room left.  Should be all cleared in five minutes.  You think you can hold up until then?”

“Just get the job done,” Ross snapped, and the comms went dead.

Tony looked back at the Avengers-turned-war-criminals.  “Everett Ross has a team coming to do clean up.  Just bought you five minutes.  Get out of here.  They’ll never know you guys were here.”

“Tony,” Steve started, “If Ross finds out—”

“Then, it’ll be my problem, not yours.  You saved mine, I save yours,” Tony said as he turned to glance in Peter’s directions, a hint of fear in his eyes, before looking back at Steve.  “Now go.  If Everett Ross realizes that you four are here and the three of us didn’t try to apprehend you, this will get a whole lot uglier.  _Go_.”

“Come on, Wanda,” Natasha said.  She put her arm on Wanda’s shoulder to guide her away. 

Sam went to follow the two women but stopped and turned back when he realized Steve still hadn’t moved.  “Steve, c’mon man, we gotta go.”

Steve frowned.  “Thank you, Tony.”

Tony curtly nodded.  “Go.  Watch your back out there.”  The two men shared another very serious look before Steve and Sam rounded their corner and met Natasha and Wanda by the doorway.  Peter watched as the four broke into a full sprint as they raced out of the warehouse.  The door slammed shut loudly behind them.  With them gone, Tony turned to look back at Vision and Peter.  “No one utters a word about what just happened to Everett Ross.  As far as they know, the three of us took down headquarters.”

Though the three of them were dead set on staying quiet about the sudden help they received, Peter was still worried they would get caught in their huge lie.  Fortunately, Everett Ross and his task force collected the Secret Empire agents without a second thought as to how just three little Avengers, regardless of how powerful or invincible Vision happened to be, managed to take down as many agents as there were.  As Ross’s men started arresting Empire agents and prepping them for transport, medical evac was offered to Tony, Vision and Peter.  No one was harmed, though.  Even though Peter still felt pretty shaken, he was in perfectly good condition: besides a couple of scraps and inevitably a few bruises for when Peter collapsed, there was no serious physical damage.  After overseeing that all the Secret Empire agents went onto their respective helicopters (they were going to some US base in central London), Tony, Vision and Peter boarded the Quinjet, quite tired and quite ready for a nice, long nap.  Vision went to sit at the pilot’s chair, able to keep a steady lookout on the retreating helicopters that contain the agents while Tony and Peter went to sit in the back, eager for some shut eye.

Peter slept for almost the entire way to the Compound and when Peter woke up from his long, deep and much needed nap, Peter pulled out his cell phone to realize that both May and MJ had left him a couple of messages.  Peter texted MJ back that he was out of town with Tony for some internship work and that he could come visit her in a couple of days.  May, on the other hand, had expected a phone call the moment Peter had been able to so he had to spend a good half hour explaining how he was okay.  He didn’t mind talking to May, especially since he was pretty worried for the entire flight back to the compound that Tony was going to bring up what happened at the living quarters.  Freaking out a little bit in a high-pressure situation was probably normal.  When Tony first became Iron-Man or when Steve first went on missions as Captain America, there had to have been at least one mission where they were overwhelmed with how many _armed_ and _very dangerous_ enemies there were.

When the compound came into sight, the Quinjet landed smoothly and swiftly.  Peter was thoroughly exhausted.  All Peter wanted to do was eat half his body weight and go lie in his bed, but according to Vision, Secretary Ross was expecting a video chat to discuss some details of the fight.  Staying in the suit for another hour or so didn’t sound appealing to Peter whatsoever but there was nothing he could do to get out of it.  Sighing, Peter followed Tony and Vision out of the Quinjet where May, Pepper and Rhodes were already waiting.

“Hey May,” Peter said through a heavy yawn.

His aunt, though she already knew he was safe, pulled Peter into a bear hug.  “My god, I was so worried.”

“Really, you had nothing to worry about,” Peter said, hugging May back just as eagerly.  “I’m alright.  I’m not hurt.”

“Right, right,” May said.  She let her nephew go, brushing loose strands of hair out of her face.  “You must be tired?  You should get ready for bed.”

“Can’t,” Peter said.  “Have this meeting thing with Secretary Ross.  Can’t miss it.”

May frowned.  “Fine, but then afterwards, you are going straight to bed.  You understand?”

Peter nodded.  He wasn’t in the mood for arguing.  Even with sleeping on the jet for as long as Peter did, he was still downright exhausted.  Muscles weak, eyes barely managing to stay open.  Now that he thought about it, Peter could probably just fall asleep in the meeting — he would be wearing his mask anyway and it wasn’t like Tony would let him answer any of the questions.  Peter kissed May on the cheek before following Tony, Rhodes and Vision back up to the top floor.  It took a mere matter of just a couple of minutes to reach Secretary Ross, who was dressed in his three-piece suit waiting in his office.

“Congratulations on the job well done,” Secretary Ross said, though the tone in his voice suggested that he wasn’t being all that genuine.  “My assistant should be sending up some paperwork for you guys.  I’ll need you to write out your statements and send it back to my office before tomorrow morning at seven — and Tony, try to get it done by that deadline.  The Accords Council wants to read over the statements to make sure all the rules were followed.”

“I’ll make sure it gets done,” Vision said hastily to keep Tony from saying anything snappish. 

“Good.  Thank you,” Secretary Ross said.

“What’s going to happen to the Secret Empire agents?” Rhodes asked.  “Anything you need assisting with?”

Ross shook his head.  “Not that I know of.  We got a lot of their lower level players, but their higher ups, the leaders weren’t there.  Fortunately, we got plenty of files and plenty of evidence incriminating the people you apprehended.  We’ll always get a couple of people to start talking.  For the men who give up names, they’ll be transported to a federal prison and for those who don’t cooperate, the Raft it is.  It’d be nice to have one of you around in case transport doesn’t go as planned but it wouldn’t be necessary to have all three of you come.”

“I’m sure Vision wouldn’t mind doing that,” Tony said.

The attention turned to the android, who merely nodded.  “I’m sure I will be available for assistance,” Vision said, politely.  “Is it safe for me to assume that I will be needed in D.C. for a formal meeting with the Accords Council to go over our statements?”

“That’s expected, yes.  We’ll have a plane ready for you tomorrow morning at 8:30.” Ross said.  “Be sure to get those statements done in time.”  The call ended.

“That was short,” Peter said.

“Trying to have a decent conversation with Secretary Ross is pretty difficult,” Tony muttered.  “Kind of because that guy hates me.  FRIDAY, you have those statement forms?”

“Uploading them onto your computers, boss,” FRIDAY replied.

Tony grabbed hold of some of the laptops waiting in a couple of cabinets (they were filled with a multitude of technology by the way, and Peter was amazed with how many laptops and iPads Tony owned).  “These statement forms are pretty simple,” Tony explained as he logged on to one of the computers and pulled up the document for Peter.  “Fill out your name — _Spider-Man_ , not your real name, obviously.  Date it on the top left corner, explain what happened.  Be specific.  The council gets pretty pissy if you’re not and then sign it at the bottom.”

Peter nodded.  “Okay.  Um, what are we doing about Cap?” Peter practically whispered, a little paranoid that Ross had the place bugged.  “Do we—”

“I’m sorry.  Cap?” Rhodes exclaimed suddenly.  Peter’s face flushed red when he quickly remembered that Rhodes hadn’t been there.  Considering that Rhodes’ didn’t have much of a relationship with the former Avengers, he wasn’t as ready to forgive them compared to Vision and Tony.  Judging by Rhodes’s disgruntled facial expression, he hadn’t nearly come to terms with what happened during the civil war as much as Tony has (which is saying something considering that Tony was still pretty bitter at Team Cap).  “You mean, war-criminal Captain America?  He was there at Grand South-Leeds and you didn’t do anything?”

Tony didn’t answer, considering that he was too busy gritting his teeth and glowering at Peter, so Vision hastily said, “In their defense, they saved Mr. Parker’s life.”

“They?” Rhodes said.

“Captain Rogers was not the only former ally to come to our aid.  He was assisted by Mr. Wilson, Ms. Maximoff and Ms. Romanoff,” Vision explained. 

“Oh great.  More criminals that could lead to _our_ arrest for not doing anything,” Rhodes said, bitterly.

“It’s more complicated than—,” Tony started.

Rhodes obviously wasn’t in the mood to listen.  “No.  No, it really isn’t.  We’re talking about the people who tried to kill you.  For the love of god, Rogers broke your suit and left you for dead in Siberia all for some goddamn Hydra assassin!” Rhodes said.  Peter shied away in his seat, feeling thoroughly _terrible_ since, all things considered, he was the person to accidentally start this argument.  Rhodes turned to Vision.  “Wanda blasted you through thirty feet of concrete.  I can’t _walk_ correctly because of them!”  Tony turned away from his friend, as though the reality and the harshness of his words was simply too much for Tony to hear right now.

“We both committed atrocious acts of violence against each other last year,” Vision said, quietly.  “And if we’re speaking technically, I was the person who shot you out of the sky.”

Rhodes rolled his eyes.  “God, do you even hear yourself?  I understand that Peter didn’t quite grasp the magnitude of what happened last year, but you two?” Peter tried hard to hide his frustration with that comment, especially since he knew that trying to argue would just worsen the situation.

Vision frowned.  “They weren’t there to continue the fight over the Accords or over Mr. Barnes.  We may not agree on everything but we are not irrational.  We all realized that in that situation, union over division was the only way to be successful in the fight against the Secret Empire.  Without them—”

“Do you hear yourself?” Rhodes exclaimed.  “Union over division?  Who gives a damn?  They _tried to kill us_.”

“And we tried to do the same with them,” Tony challenged.

“What we did was different.  We tried to be diplomatic.  We presented Rogers with plenty of opportunities to end that conflict without serious consequences.  Steve was just being a stubborn little—,” Rhodes said.

“It doesn’t matter, anymore!” Tony suddenly exclaimed.  Peter nearly jumped back in his chair at the sudden outburst; for someone who went under great deals of stress, Tony rarely snapped like this, especially not to someone who he’s been friends with for years.  “What happened in the past happened and we can’t — I don’t want to rehash it anymore.  I don’t trust the sons of bitches anymore than you do Rhodes but… they weren’t there to fight us.  And they kept Peter and me alive so I guess I just owed them.”

“And you’re willing to lie on government documents — to the _United Nations_ about what happened for them?” Rhodes said.

“If Ross knew that they were there, they would have been arrested,” Tony said.  “Sent back to the Raft, probably, regardless of the fact that they helped us out.”

“And if Ross finds out that we let them go, all four of us will be given our own cell there too,” Rhodes urged.  “Do you not understand how serious that is?”

“Of course I do,” Tony said, “which is why we can’t tell anyone about.”

“Tony—,” Rhodes started.

“What’s done is done,” Tony said, and that was the end of the discussion.  Tony glanced at Peter.  “Just explain what happened and leave out the part about getting help from Maximoff.  And you can’t tell anyone about this, you understand?”

“Of course not,” Peter said, nodding briskly. 

“And that includes Ned.  You know that, right?” Tony asked.

Peter nodded.  “I won’t tell anyone.”

“Good,” Tony finally said.  He glanced at his watch and then back at the computer.  “It’s 9:30, which mean it would throw off your sleeping pattern if you go to bed soon.  Let’s just get our statement finished tonight and then we’ll head to bed.”

It wasn’t until Tony mentioned it that Peter realized just how tired he was.  He didn’t spend more than an hour, maybe an hour and a half in London so it wasn’t like Peter was getting hit with full on jet-lag.  It felt more like Peter had pulled an all-nighter and now he just needed to get some rest.  He filled out the statement fairly briskly.  While he had to admit that he had to lie quite a bit (after all, Wanda did most of the fighting for him), Peter was just glad he was through with the statement and hopefully wouldn’t have to deal with the Accords ever again.  As Tony double-checked Peter’s statement and as they submitted their work, Peter became ever-more grateful that it was Vision who had to be responsible for testifying and working with the Accords Council.  Peter was never great at lying, and the thought of having to do it in front of a bunch of powerful adults would have scared him senseless.

With both Tony and Peter being done with their respective statements at the same time, Peter was pretty worried that Tony would seize the opportunity to ambush him about what happened at the living quarters.  As it turned out, Peter was allowed to sleep easy that night because Tony waited until the next morning at breakfast to bring up the situation.  May and Rhodes were still asleep, Pepper had some Stark Industries business to take care of and Vision was already on his way to D.C. to start doing conference work with Secretary Ross.  Surprised with himself that Peter was up before nine, he went downstairs to see if he could get a head start on breakfast, maybe do something nice for the other adults.  Only, Peter was disappointed to see that Tony was already standing by the oven flipping over French toast.

“You’re up early,” Tony said with a smile.

Peter shrugged.  “Yeah, I’m surprised, too.”

“You hungry?” Tony asked.

Peter didn’t even need to respond because Tony was already dishing out plates of French toast and pulling maple syrup and powdered sugar from the pantry.  They enjoyed their breakfast together in silence, listening to a gentle hum of ‘70s music that was playing in the background.  After finishing their breakfast quickly, Peter offered to help Tony with the dishes and with taking down the Christmas decorations.  Though Peter seemed to be enjoying his time this morning, the way that Tony was frowning the entire time they were dismantling the Christmas tree, Peter immediately sensed that something was wrong.

“Is everything alright?” Peter tentatively asked.  “Did something not go right with the statements?  Is Ross pissed about something?”

Tony shook his head.  “No.  The mission went very well yesterday.”

“Oh…” Peter said.  He thought perhaps making a joke would pull Tony out of his heavy, contemplative mode.  “Or are you just upset that the Christmas decorations are going down?”

Tony let out a dry chuckle.  “I want to know what happened with you yesterday,” Tony suddenly blurted out.  The change of conversation came quick and very unexpectedly, and Peter instantly regretted not going straight upstairs after breakfast to start on his homework like he contemplated for a fraction of a second.

Peter went to take a seat on the couch before responding.  “What about yesterday?” Peter asked innocently, as though playing dumb would do anything.  Peter knew exactly what Tony was talking about.  “You said the mission went—”

“Don’t bullshit me, Parker,” Tony said.  The tone of his voice made this conversation all the more serious, made Tony seem all the angrier.  “If Wanda didn’t do anything to you, I want to know why you collapsed.”

“Honestly, it’s nothing, Tony.  Look, I’ve got a lot of homework and I should probably pack—”

“You are not getting out of this that easily,” Tony snapped.  He went to stand in front of Peter, pacing back and forth a couple of times.  After a long period of silence, Tony finally said, “Look, kid.  I know I’m the adult here and I know you might not want to tell me if something’s wrong because you’re afraid I’ll take the suit or whatever but…”  Tony trailed off.  He sat on the couch beside Peter and put his hand on the teenager’s shoulder, “I’m not here just to take your suit away.  I just want to make sure you’re okay.  And the nightmares and you not being able to sleep and — and whatever happened back on the mission… it’s _scaring_ me, Peter.  If something is wrong, I need you to tell me.” 

Peter stared into Tony’s eyes, recognizing the terror and concern in his expression, the same expression that May had when she found out about Peter being Spider-Man.  The same expression that Uncle Ben when he was alive every time Peter came back from school with a new bruise on his face from Flash or when Ben walked into Peter’s room to find Peter crying after a terrible day at school.  It was the expression of an adult who truly cared about Peter’s well-being, and more than just because Peter was Tony’s protégé.  But even then, Peter didn’t want to tell Tony because there was nothing to worry about.  Issues like the Accords or the crumbling Avengers image were stuff that Tony needed to worry about.  Peter having a bad couple of nights didn’t matter.

“If you want the truth, the sight of all those guns freaked me out.  I think it was because of what happened a couple weeks ago,” Peter said.  It wasn’t like Peter was lying about that, but he also knew there was probably more to these _nightmares_ , these _flashbacks_ than Peter was willing to admit.  “Getting some sleep, taking the night off would be good for me.  That’s it.”

Tony frowned.  “Does May know about the nightmares?”

“No!” Peter stammered, quickly.  “No, she doesn’t know about it.  It’s — I’ve only had a couple of nightmares.  They weren’t big deals.”

“Screaming for help isn’t a big deal to you, huh?” Tony said.  He sighed.  “Look, Peter, I know what’s it like to be…”  Tony stopped himself and rephrased what he was trying to say, “Trauma isn’t something I’m unfamiliar with, either.”

“Nothing’s wrong with me, Tony!” Peter said, defensively.  Quickly remembering that Tony was just trying to help Peter, especially when there may not have been a lot of people to help Tony through something similar, Peter backtracked.  “Really, Tony.  I’m okay.  The nightmares have gone away.  I’ve been alright, I promise.  Honestly.  I’m _okay_ ,” Peter urged. “It was a one-time thing.  If it means anything to you, I’ll take a couple days off.  If something serious happens, I’ll let you know right away.”

Tony frowned, but he didn’t argue and that was a good sign.  “I want to hear if _anything_ happens.  You understand?”

“Of course,” Peter said.  “But nothing’s going to happen, okay!” 

* * *

Peter was wrong.  Very wrong.  But what else is new?

When it was time to go back to school, Peter didn’t let himself think anything serious was going on with him.  Tony was just exaggerating how serious the situation was.  Being shot a couple weeks ago was a perfectly logical explanation for why Peter freaked out on the mission the other week.  He kept convincing himself that nothing was really wrong with him, kept reassuring himself that there was nothing “psychologically” wrong with him.  That reassurance in himself kept Peter from dwelling on the nightmares or the panic attack for any longer than a couple of minutes here and there.  He went about his life as though nothing was wrong because, to his knowledge, nothing _was_ wrong.  Easing himself into a new semester, getting acclimated to his classes as well as going full speed again in decathlon distracted him from reality.  And it gave MJ and Peter plenty of opportunities to spend time with each other.

Their relationship was going great, better than anything Peter had expected.  Despite only dating for about a month and really only becoming close their sophomore year, the way Peter felt when he was around MJ reminded Peter of what it felt like to be around someone you’ve known years.  Morning study sessions turned into getting lunch together and then dinner and then binge-watching TV shows on Netflix.  An all day affair where they were could do nothing but laugh and smile.  She still had her secrets, still wasn’t always open to sharing the deep stuff with Peter but they were getting there.  And Peter knew MJ was slowly opening up based on the way she began sharing some of her random thoughts, show Peter some of her artwork even though she was still a little embarrassed.

Decathlon was going just as well.  Now that winter break was over and the deadline for when MJ, Peter and Mr. Harrington had to pick the STEM and humanities teams were rapidly approaching, the team had to work overtime.  MJ and Peter had slacked off a little bit of winter break so they had to cram in a couple extra meetings to get situated for the practices the first week coming back.  Eventually, they crafted the lessons carefully and, happy with how the lessons were structured, the two of them were ready for the upcoming set of practices.  MJ and Peter got to gym early to set up on Tuesday and, when the rest of the team came by, Ned was the first to greet them, shoving some snacks into their hands.

“When are you two ever going to come with us to store?” Ned asked.  He looked at MJ suspiciously.  “Am I getting replaced?”

“What?  Of course not,” Peter exclaimed.

“I could never replace you,” MJ muttered.  She did a quick head count of everyone on the team and then frowned.  “Jason!” she yelled.  Jason Ionello stopped irritating Gwen and Betty and glanced at MJ.  “Where the hell is Flash?  Practice is supposed to start in two minutes.”

Jason shrugged.  “He ran into some pretty girl from Queens Public High School.  I’m pretty sure he’s getting—”

“Okay, thank you!” MJ snapped, holding her hands up.  “Guess we’ll start practice without him.  Everyone, find a seat.  We got a lot to do.”

MJ pulled up the jeopardy board she and Peter crafted the other night.  MJ was the one asking everyone questions and calling on teams so all Peter had to do was cross out the questions that were answered and keep track of points.  He didn’t mean to lose interest so quickly but his mind kept wandering.  He glanced at his phone, checking to see if Tony or May had texted him.  Then, Peter found himself interested in reading ahead on their lesson plan for the day, before he kept himself busy with drumming on the table with the table.  _Tap, tap, tap._ Little fervent thumps.

It only took a couple of seconds for Peter to quickly realized that those little fervent thumps weren’t from him tapping on the table.  That loud noise in the background was someone hitting the back entrance of the gym pretty fervently.  Like someone was trying hard to break into the gym.  As Mr. Harrington, grumbling, got out of his seat to let in whoever was slamming on the door, Peter’s spidey-senses were going off.  Hard and fast.  Whoever was behind that door had to be have been a serious threat.  Even though Peter was in front of the entire Decathlon team and even though MJ was sitting right next to him, hand on his thigh, Peter jerked up from his chair fast.  “Mr. Harrington, stop!” Peter yelled just as Mr. Harrington pulled the gym door open.  Peter lurched from his seat, flipping over the table and bounding toward his teacher.

Peter stopped thinking.  Adrenaline was coursing through his veins, propelling his body to move forward as he grabbed hold of Mr. Harrington and threw him aside.  Peter didn’t take the time to size up the criminal, the _hostile_ coming through the door.  Peter’s arms were around the guy, twisting him around and throwing the hostile straight onto the ground.  The enemy landed on the ground with a thud and a serious groan.  Mr. Harrington let out a terrified yell.  Behind Peter, Gwen screamed.  They were running toward Peter.  Jason grabbed Peter’s arm and pretty violently yanked Peter off of whoever just walked into the gym.

“What are you—,” Peter said, pulling free from Jason only to be met with more hands grappling onto him, pushing Peter back onto the ground.  “What the hell are you doing?!”

“What the hell are _you_ doing?” Jason yelled.  “You just attacked Flash!”

What?  Peter blinked a couple of times.  Let himself adjust to the environment around him.  And sure enough —

“You psycho!” Flash yelled as Gwen and Mr. Harrington went to help him off of the ground.  “Jesus.  I’m sorry I was late to practice.  Didn’t know that was a crime!” 

Peter was dazed, confused.  _Lost._ He was so sure that even the spider-senses believed someone dangerous was trying to get into the gym.  Why would Peter just suddenly attack Flash?  Why would his body tell him that he was doing the right thing?  Why did his eyes play a trick on him?  Tell him that Flash was an enemy when very clearly Flash was nothing but a disgruntled teenager trying to get to practice.  And what made it worse was that everyone on the team was staring at Peter.  Everyone on the team understood that something was _wrong_ with him otherwise Peter would have never attacked Flash.

Peter blinked hard, a couple of tears trickling down his cheek.  “I — I — I’m sorry…” Peter stuttered.  He was trying hard to get up from the ground but for some reason his damn legs would barely keep him upright.  Peter swayed to the side a little bit, nearly fell, but no one of the team dared to go near him.  In fact, all his _friends_ took a couple steps away.  They were scared of him.  _What the hell was wrong with him?_

“Peter, do you want to sit out for a second?” Mr. Harrington said.  “Is there someone we can call?”  He sounded so… so _pitiful_ , like Peter was this damaged little kid who just needed help.  And Mr. Harrington was clearly not the only person who felt like that.  Even Flash looked a little worried.

“Tony Stark…” Peter finally whispered.  “He’d want to know.”

“Okay,” Mr. Harrington said quietly.  “Why don’t you give me his number and I’ll give him a call?  Do you want sit outside or do you think…”

_Do you think you’re sane enough to stay around us?  Are you going to hurt anyone else?_

It was clear that Mr. Harrington was trying hard not to look judgmental or even fearful of Peter, but Peter wasn’t stupid.  He had enough social exposure to get a good understanding of Mr. Harrington’s obvious body language.  “I’ll just wait outside,” Peter said.  “Some fresh air would be nice.”  He took out his cell phone and shared Tony’s contact with Mr. Harrington.  “Just — just tell him… I’ll wait for him here.  I — I’m really sorry.  I don’t know what happened…” Peter muttered.  He glanced at Flash as he apologized, then at Ned, who looked most concerned out of everyone on the team, before finally going straight to the door.  He didn’t want to look at MJ.  Not when Peter felt so goddamn weak and embarrassed and _helpless._

Why was his mind and body breaking down on him?  He thought his senses were supposed to be accurate almost 100% of the time and yet they just alerted Peter to attack Flash Thompson.  A high school bully didn’t exactly warrant a full beat-down by Spider-Man.  Peter was getting frustrated, blood boiling, face going hot.  He saw a trash can sitting beside the door to the gym.  Angrily, Peter kicked it aside, accidentally denting it.

“Peter?”  He spun around.  MJ was standing in the doorway, glancing down at the trash can and then back to him.  For being so nervous for her to see him in such a bad place, Peter quickly realized that she didn’t look like she was judging him for what happened.  Far from that.  And that look of pity, the kind that Peter really didn’t want to see, wasn’t there, either.  She took a step closer to him.  “Are you okay?  What’s going on?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Peter muttered.  The world around him still felt a little fuzzy at the edges.  Trying to get his brain to wrap around what happened was difficult enough, and trying to explain the situation to another person made Peter so distraught he thought he was going to pass out.

“Okay,” MJ said, quietly.

Peter turned to look at her.  “What?”

“It’s okay,” MJ said again.  “We don’t have to talk about it.”  It was a kind reassurance, and Peter let out a sigh of relief, a deep _relaxing_ and much needed breath.  MJ gestured toward one of the benches.  “Should we sit?”

It wasn’t a daunting task.  They were just going to sit.  “Sure,” Peter whispered.

He sat down on the benches first before MJ slowly went to join him.  They sat in silence for a couple of minutes, long, grueling silence during which Peter’s mind was consumed with trying to get a read on MJ.  She was glancing at him occasionally, trying hard to do it without him noticing but Peter was perceptive — at least he _can_ be perceptive.  She was worried about him.  That was obvious.  And it wasn’t like her worrying went unwarranted, not after that crazy fit Peter just displayed.  Everyone on the team was probably worried about him.  Or worse.  Everyone on the team may be _scared_ of Peter.  What if Peter tries to attack one of them again?  What if Peter tries to attack MJ?  He was always worried about putting MJ in danger, but not like this.  Maybe some bad guy would go after her.  Maybe she would follow Peter and find herself in the middle of a fight.  But Peter was _never_ worried he would accidentally attack her.

“Breathe,” MJ suddenly ordered.  He glanced over at her, only to realize that while he was thinking so intently, he must have started to hyperventilate.  His heart was racing, face beet red.  “Take deep breaths.  It helps.”

Peter followed her orders and it calmed him a little bit.  “Thanks,” he muttered.  MJ smiled before going back to twiddling her fingers, trying hard to avoid eye contact.  Peter cringed.  “I don’t know what happened,” he blurted out when he couldn’t take the silence anymore.  “I really thought Flash—…”

“It’s okay.  No one’s mad at you,” MJ said.

“What’s — what’s wrong with me?” Peter managed, wiping away tears fast.

“ _Nothing_ is wrong with you,” she urged.  She scooted over in the bench, closer to him.  She reached out, setting her hands loosely on Peter’s shoulder.  “Is this okay?”

“I… yeah,” Peter finally said after a long second.

The contact still felt different, uncomfortable, made him a little nervous but he knew he was safe with MJ.  She wasn’t a threat.  She _wasn’t_ a threat and he wasn’t going to be a threat to her.  Peter eased into her arms slowly and as he relaxed, her grip tightened slightly.  Soon enough, MJ had her arms wrapped tightly around Peter, his head pressed against her chest as he cried.  Really cried until he couldn’t cry anymore.  When his cries were subdued to a low hiccup, MJ finally pulled away.

“Tony’s here,” MJ whispered.

Peter glanced up and, sure enough, the billionaire/Avenger/mentor to Peter was hurrying his way inside.  Unfortunately, Tony didn’t show up to the school alone.  Maybe it was pretty foolish of Peter to think that Tony wouldn’t tell May but Peter was still kind of hoping.  His aunt was practically running to get Peter, eyes wide as she took in his red, tear-streaked face.  MJ took a couple steps back as the two adults approached Peter.  Good thing, too, because the first thing May did when she got to Peter was pull him off the bench and into a tight bear hug, as though that would be enough to make both herself and her nephew feel better.  It helped a little, reminded Peter that there was still plenty of people who cared about him.  But that didn’t change what happened.  May passed Peter on to Tony.  Even though Peter wasn’t sure how much Mr. Harrington told the two of them what happened, that I-told-you-so conversation Peter was worried Tony would give him never came.  Peter was washed with nothing but unconditional concern.

“Are you alright?” May asked.

Peter nodded.  “Yeah.  I’m, um, I’m fine now.  Mr. Harrington is inside if you guys want to talk to him.”

“Mr. Harrington already told us what happened…” Tony whispered.  The older man glanced at MJ.  “Um, maybe we should talk in private.”

“I guess that’s my cue,” MJ said, getting up.  “I’m Michelle Jones.”

“Peter’s…” Tony started.

“Yeah,” MJ finished.  She glanced at Peter.  “I’ll be inside if you guys need anything.”  She patted Peter on the shoulder kindly before walking into the gymnasium and closing the door firmly shut.

“Peter,” May finally said after a long second.  “Is something wrong?  Do you need to talk to us about something?”  When Peter didn’t answer, she turned to look to Tony.  “Do you know something about this?

Tony frowned.  “Peter, do you want to tell May?” 

He didn’t sound angry, and the tone of Tony’s voice suggested that it wasn’t a demand.  The truth be told Peter wanted to tell May what was going on.  He thought she had a right to know the truth but that didn’t make it any less terrifying.  “There’s been some stuff going on,” Peter finally admitted, slowly working his courage up.  He could tell that May was getting more worried by the second when he didn’t continue.  Peter took a step back.  “It’s not as big of a deal as Mr. Harrington made it out to be.”

“Peter…” Tony started.

“Tony, you’re freaking May out!” Peter exclaimed.

“Because you’re scaring me,” Tony snapped.

May cleared her throat.  “Okay, I know I’m the aunt or mom or angry parent that both of you guys don’t want to piss off and I know I’m just a civilian that doesn’t get to hear about the Avenger secrets but damn it, you two are _both_ scaring me!”  May had the same expression she had when Happy had to call her about the Accords business, and how angry May got wasn’t something that Peter wanted to revisit any time soon.  She glared at Peter.  “Peter, I love you.  You know that.  So, if you have something you need to tell me, I want to know.  If it’s another mission, I’m sure—”

“It’s not another mission,” Peter said, eyes dropping to the ground.

He thought his head was going to explode as he looked from Tony to May and then back to Tony, who was just standing there, trying very hard not to make eye contact with anyone.  This wasn’t supposed to happen this way.  May was never supposed to know about what he was going through… not when he didn’t even know what he was going through.  He needed to find a way out.  A way to escape from this terrifying conversation.

“Peter… please talk to me,” May finally whispered.  _Begged_.

Peter didn’t tell May about the nightmares or the fact that he’s so paranoid someone is trying to attack him that he can’t sleep all that great because he didn’t want to hurt her, _scare_ him.  What sucked the most was that by not being honest with her, he ended up hurting her anyway.  And he didn’t want to hurt her.  Or Tony.

“Peter,” Tony finally said.  His voice was calm, quiet, _careful_.  “You know you can talk to us.”

“I… I don’t want to,” Peter said after a long second.  And he wasn’t doing it out of spite toward the two adults who treated him like he was their own kid.  “It’s…”  The words faltered.

“It’s what?” May said.

“It’s _embarrassing_!” Peter finally sputtered out.  He turned to look away from the two adults who now looked borderline terrified for him.  “I was…”  Peter stopped himself when he remembered that he was standing right beside the door to the gymnasium.  He leaned in close to May and Tony and said, “I’m supposed to be this symbol of hope and power and protection for Queens and New York but, _my god,_ I can barely sleep at night.  How do you think it feels to have all these great powers but feel so weak because you can’t seem to handle all the pressure that comes with doing this job?!”

Tony, who’s expression quickly turned into that of shame, looked away from Peter and then to May.  “I don’t… I don’t understand,” May said.  “You can’t sleep at night?”

Peter looked to Tony for help.  “He’s been having these nightmares,” Tony filled in.

“Nightmares?  Like all kids have?” May said.

“Like _traumatized_ individuals have,” Tony said.

 _Traumatized_.  It was such a strong word, maybe too strong of a word to describe Peter’s situation.  Peter never equated his situation — everything that happened with Adrian Toomes, being trapped under that building structure, being thrown into a lake — with real trauma.  Real trauma was normally associated with soldiers coming back from war, seeing the worst of the worst in life.  Or victims of assault, crimes.  What Peter went through couldn’t be compared to that.  It wasn’t like what happened with Tony.  A prisoner of war, tortured, _nearly killed_.  So, Peter had some nightmares.  But does that mean he was actually traumatized?  Damaged?  Wounded so badly that his mind was suddenly working against him?

“I don’t think…” Peter started.

May ignored him.  “What are you — how did I not know about this?  How did _you_ find about this, whatever this is, before me?”

“He had this bad nightmare when he was over at the compound,” Tony admitted.

“And you didn’t tell me about it?” May said.

“I wasn’t sure how serious the situation was,” Tony said.

“That’s because it isn’t that serious,” Peter said.  The last thing he wanted was for the two most important adults in Peter’s life to start fighting over his own problem.  “Look, Tony, I know what you saw was bad but please, trust me, it’s nothing.  I promise.”

Apparently, Peter’s promises didn’t mean a lot to Tony and May because they looked back at each other and whispered a few things (Peter distinctly heard his name drop a couple of times, which was irritating since Peter couldn’t hear whatever else they were saying).  When they were finished having their private conversation, Tony said, “Look, Peter, I know you think you’ll be okay — and, of course, there’s a possibility that you’re right.  Maybe this really isn’t that big of a deal but May and I both think it’d be best if we… _make sure_ that nothing is really wrong.  And if something isn’t right, then maybe you could get some help.  We can stop the situation from getting worse.”

Peter frowned but he also figured trying to convince May and Tony, the most protective adults Peter has ever met, would let this go.  Sighing, Peter said, “What exactly would I have to do?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Random edit: who has seen the Infinity War trailer? I was freaking out when I watched it... no big deal...


	8. Bad Memories

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! A few of things: first, thank you to Joshua_Preston for giving me the inspiration to use Dr. Strange in this chapter. Also, I've only seen Doctor Strange once so I'm just taking a stab in the dark about how he would interact with Peter.
> 
> I'm not sure when Spider-Man: Homecoming was supposed to take place, so I'm going off the assumption that Peter's sophomore year is set in the years 2015-2016. 
> 
> Hope you all enjoy! :)

_“Grief is like the ocean;_

_it comes in waves, ebbing and flowing._

_Sometimes the water is calm,_

_and sometimes it is overwhelming._

_All we can do is learn to swim.”_

_~ Vicki Harrison ~_

Chapter Eight: Bad Memories

Tony apparently knew someone that he thought Peter would like.  An old friend, Tony called him.  It wasn’t a formal meeting with a therapist.  Jumping head first into whatever Peter was dealing with by going straight to a therapist, a daunting name that came ton of different strings, scared him a little bit too much.  The place was a little ways away from Queens, an hour drive through intense traffic to get to some nice penthouse (Peter was only assuming — apparently this friend was filthy rich, even compared to Tony).  Because Tony was rushing to figure out what was going on with Peter, he was meeting up with Tony’s friend the day after what happened with Flash, on Wednesday.  Tony planned on spoiling Peter right before, go out to an expensive lunch and make Peter feel all gooey and happy inside, all right before Peter can get his insides crushed by delving deep into his psychological issues.  At the very least, Peter got to skip school.  Having to face Flash and MJ and the rest of the decathlon team after what happened, being forced to endure all the rumors going around, wasn’t ideal.

Peter was slumped against the passenger seat of May’s CRV.  They were driving to some snooty, over-priced little restaurant to meet Tony, who apparently had his own private room there.  They were sitting in silence, music blaring so that they didn’t feel obligated to carry a conversation. “I don’t think I want to do this,” Peter groaned for what felt like the millionth time on the drive to the restaurant.  He leaned against the window of May’s car, arms folded and looking very unhappy.  Peter knew this was supposed to make him ‘better’ or at least be a healthy outlet for Peter, but trudging up bad memories was the last thing Peter wanted to do right now.  All of last night, Peter had been caught up in his head, thinking hard about Flash.  About the face of an enemy that Peter _swore_ he saw.  He didn’t sleep at all last night.  Not that he was all that surprised.

“I know,” May said.  She took a right, passing by a couple of expensive looking gift shops.  “Believe me, this isn’t what I expected my nephew to go be going through either but if Tony thinks this will help then we should at least try it.”

Peter wanted to have the same positive outlook on the situation as May. She was thinking of the future, thinking of the ways that Peter could overcome whatever he was going through as if talking it out was all that Peter needed.  That wasn’t exactly true.  Even if Peter could escape the bad dreams, could find a way to make it easier to breathe at night, looking over his shoulder had to be second nature for him.  It wasn’t like Peter could just stop being Spider-Man and, after all, being this masked vigilant was the true source of Peter’s… problems, if that’s the right word to use.

“Here we are,” May said.

She pulled into a parking lot right out front of the restaurant, this French eatery in between a high-class bank and some overpriced clothing store.  The green and white awning barely hung over the front entrance.  For this being such high-end restaurant, the place was much more talkative, full, lively, the wait staff bustling around, taking orders.  When May dropped Tony Stark’s name, the maître d’ smiled suddenly too politely before taking the two of them to the second staircase into their own private room.  Tony was waiting politely, chatting it up with one of the waiters who was holding two other menus.

“You must be Tony Stark’s guests!” The waiter exclaimed, too enthusiastically. 

“Would you like for me to take your coats?” The maître d’ offered.

“Uh, sure,” May said quietly.  She handed the maître d’ her and Peter’s jackets to be hung on the coatrack by the front door. 

With the maître d’ gone, the waiter came to greet Peter and May and take them to their seats.  The waiter, this older gentleman with a kind smile eagerly pulled the chair out for the two of them.  “Thank you for joining us,” the waiter said.  He went through the specials quickly: it was a lot of foreign appetizers Peter didn’t know a lot about and was a little scared to try.  Eventually, Tony ordered appetizers for the three of them and, after ordering their drinks, the waiter politely said he’d be back soon.

“They look happy you’re here,” May pointed out when the door to their private eating area closed shut.

“Frequent customer.  I give them good tips,” Tony said.  “In return, I can get this place whenever I want it.  How are you feeling today, Mr. Parker?”  The generally light tone in Tony’s voice disappeared, becoming quite serious.  _God._ Peter didn’t want this to be how their relationship worked from now on: Tony constantly worrying about Peter’s well-being, treating him like this wounded puppy dog who needed saving and protecting.

Peter didn’t want to start a scene right now, especially when Tony was trying so hard to take care of him.  “I’m doing alright.”

“Did you sleep last night?” Tony asked.

Peter had the impulse to lie again, but decided now wasn’t the best time.  “Not really.  Could have been worse, I guess,” Peer added so that he wouldn’t have to worry the two adults.

It was obvious that neither May nor Tony were convinced but fortunately the waiter came scurrying back in with their drinks and appetizers.  Peter had to admit that the restaurant was fast at getting their food out, though Peter figured it had to do more with the fact that their richest patron was dining there.  After getting a couple of recommendations from the waiters and from Tony, Peter settled on some fancy fish dish for lunch.  The food was eccentric, nothing like what Peter had ever had before but he was never one to shy away from new food so he tried everything that was brought to their table.  It was good, the kind of food that tasted expensive but it was enjoyable.  To make matters even better, Tony and May didn’t bring up Peter’s… issues for all of lunch.  It was nothing but pure relaxation, but when the waiters came to clear their food away, it was back to reality.  May followed Tony’s car the entire way to this mysterious friend’s house.  When Peter got a look at it, his mouth dropped.  It was this huge, blue Victorian-styled building that seemed so out of place compared to the other skyscrapers around it.  A grand staircase lead to set of double doors.  For someone who lived in New York City, it was amazing that a person could have gotten a home of this magnitude.  Out of the buildings on the block, this one by far claimed all the attention.

Peter stumbled out of the car in awe, May by his side.  Peter turned to look at Tony.  “Wow.  Who lives here?”

 “A friend.  We met a little bit ago,” Tony said.  “And careful, he’s a little… well, you’ll like him I’m sure.”  Tony went to ring the doorbell.  The three of them waited for a long couple of seconds before it swung open and out stepped a man draped in brown cloth.  He looked very serious as he tentatively let Tony and the others inside.  “Wong,” Tony said, holding his hand out to greet the man.  “How are you doing?”

“Fine.  Stephen!” Wong called out, “Mr. Stark and his… _friends_ are here.”

“Tell them I’m coming,” another man said.

When this new figure came into view, Peter’s mouth dropped wide open.  “No freaking way…” Peter muttered.  For someone who knows the ins and outs of all the supernatural, Avenger-like business, Peter should have realized that Tony was taking him to _the_ Dr. Strange.  A man with an amazing story and an even more amazing brain.  Intelligent, daring, a little callous and sometimes arrogant, too.  Peter only heard a whisper here and there from Tony about what this man is capable of, but it was on the mystical, unstoppable level of Scarlet Witch and Vision, perhaps even more powerful than the two of them.  “You’re — you’re — you’re Stephen Strange.”

The man nodded.  “Yes.  That’s typically the reaction that I receive.”  He looked Peter up and down a couple of times, took in the lean, teenager-appearance before his attention turned to Aunt May.  Again, there was a seemingly critical sort of look in Strange’s eyes but that disappeared a second later when Dr. Strange turned to Tony.  “Tony.  How have you been doing?”

The two adults shook hands.  “Thanks for having us over.”

“Please, let’s go upstairs.  Wong, would you mind taking their coats?” Dr. Strange said.  Wong scowled but didn’t object.  “I’ll admit, this is not what I thought Spider-Man would have looked like.”

“Superheroes come in all packages,” Tony admitted.

Peter’s eyes went wide.  “Uh, what?”  He turned to look at Tony.

“Peter, it’s alright,” Tony said.  “I figured if Stephen wanted to help you to the best of his ability and if you were to be completely honest with the man, he would have to know the entire situation.  You can trust him.”

“If you trust him, then I do, too,” Peter finally said.  He gave Tony a reassuring smile.

“Shall we talk in private?” Dr. Strange gestured toward the grand staircase leading to the second floor.

May turned to look at Tony.  “I’ll be fine,” Peter said to his aunt.  “Just wait down here, okay?”

“I can give you two a tour,” Wong offered to May and Tony.

With Tony and May occupied, Peter followed Dr. Strange up the grand staircase, past this amazing, _vast_ window that resembled the old-fashioned gears of a clock and into a huge library-like office.  It was a quaint place, shelves of rustic looking antiques, huge textbooks that Peter could only assume were filled with some kind of medical jargon.  Dr. Strange gestured toward the large conference table, a few empty cups sitting in front of them.  Peter settled into one of the red, plush chairs, folding his arms uncomfortably.

“Tony said you needed to talk,” Dr. Strange said.  He settled into the chair in front of Peter, clasping his hands together.  Peter really wanted to say something back.  To him, not answering would feel like an insult to the man but Peter wasn’t exactly ready to divulge into secrets that he barely shared with Tony or May, let alone a stranger.  When Peter didn’t answer, Dr. Strange nodded and said, “How about I talk a little bit about myself first?  Only if it were to make you feel more comfortable.”

“Uh, sure,” Peter said.

“Is there anything in particular you would like to know?”

“How did you meet Tony Stark?” Peter tempted.  Dr. Strange smiled.  With a flick of his hands and a sudden explosion of yellow magic that resembled the shape and style of gears spinning, the empty cup sitting in front of Peter was filled with steaming warm tea.  Peter stared at the cup for a couple of seconds before saying, “Wow.  That was awesome.”

“Not every day you get to see something like that,” Dr. Strange said, grinning.  “A friend of Tony’s visited me a while back in search of someone.  Perhaps you know him.  Thor Odinson.”

Peter choked on his tea.  “The god?  Thor?  No way.”

“Yes.  He was just as surprised at my abilities as you are.  Anyway, I offered my help to Thor.  Word spread to Tony about what I did and then one day, I heard a knock on my door.  Getting a visit from Iron-Man wasn’t something I expected but I suppose I would have met him eventually.  A pleasant albeit unexpected visit was better than what else it could have been,” Dr. Strange said.  “At first, Tony was only interested in learning about my powers, where they came from, the novelty of them.  As time progressed, however, Tony sought in me what many others do: the ability to understand the complications of cognition.  While I may be a brain surgeon, my powers and training have allowed me to delve deeper into the particulars of the brain more than years of med school have allowed.  I’m no therapist.  I’m not here to just listen to your problems, tell you that talking, gushing out your feelings is going to solve everything.  Picking up the pieces of a broken mentality is something I’m very good at, so I’m well aware that you’re not going to have it easy.  But I’ll guide you through recovery.”

Peter nodded.  “Right.  You seem fine, though?”

Dr. Strange narrowed his eyes.  “I suppose I’ve overcome the damage done by the accident.  My hands,” — he held up his fingers, twirling them to allow Peter to see the tiny scars etched across his phalanges —, “were my life before I received these powers.  When the accident happened and I realized my opportunity to recover was statistically very improbable, I thought my life was over.  I was driven to madness, consumed with finding a solution that I didn’t think existed.  I wasn’t wrong.  I _did_ find a solution that opened up realities and truths that I didn’t think existed.  I learned a new perspective that changed how I saw my purpose in life.  I had a choice to make: mend my hands with my powers and return to my work, or protect the universe from threats not even the Avengers could defeat?  I choose the latter, obviously.  You wouldn’t be standing in front of me if I hadn’t.  If Tony’s word is true about you, and I’m assuming he wouldn’t be lying, you’ve already found your purpose.  Your growth is far beyond what I was capable of upon learning these powers.  If you want to overcome the trauma that you’ve been exposed to, no matter the severity of the situation, then you must keep your purpose in mind.  You do that, and then I’ll consider treating you.”

The way Dr. Strange addressed Peter, it was obvious that it wasn’t even an option to want to give up.  The man wasn’t by any means being rude to Peter, but supportive and strict in a way that Peter needed right now.  “Yeah.  That sounds like a good plan.”

“Good,” Dr. Strange said.

“So, how does this normally start?” Peter asked.  “Do you ask me questions and I just… I answer them?  Or do I just start talking about my deep-rooted problems?”

Dr. Strange rolled his eyes.  “If that’s what you want.  You’re in control right now.  But if that’s too daunting for you, why don’t we just start with questions you have?”

“Sure… How often do you and I meet?” Peter asked.

“Now that my work as a neurosurgeon is fairly limited, I have a little bit more times on my hands.  How about every Wednesday after school?  I’m assuming you’re still in school,” Dr. Strange said. 

“Uh yeah.  Is there any way of contacting you?” Peter asked.

Dr. Strange frowned.  “For?”

“I don’t know.  In case I need to cancel meetings.  In case of an emergency,” Peter said.

Again, the doctor didn’t look very pleased with that.  “Let me make something very clear, Peter.  There’s nothing wrong with getting help.  There never will be.  Understanding the fact that you can’t always handle a problem yourself is okay, but remember, however effective these… well, for lack of better words, therapy meetings are, when it comes down to it, you’re responsible for your success.  I know you’re strong enough to handle whatever life throws at it.  If you find yourself losing control, slipping into a nightmare even though you know it isn’t reality, remember that _you_ have the strength to pull yourself out.  But that being said,” —Dr. Strange slid a small piece of paper with a phone number on it in front of Peter—, “this is my personal number.  No need to call to say if you’re coming to your appointment but let me know if you plan on canceling.  And if you ever find yourself in the middle of crisis and don’t think you can handle it, let me know.”

“Thank you,” Peter said.  He stared at the ten digits on the piece of paper.  It didn’t just symbolize a new companion for Peter.  It represented a new page in Peter’s life, like he was admitting he needed help and this was his first step in getting it.  Sitting in front of Dr. Strange, accepting this means help. It meant drudging up feelings and memories that Peter had been working too surprise, but that’s okay.  Peter knew it _had_ to be okay, otherwise Tony wouldn’t be putting Peter through this.

“Consider it a favor,” the older man said.  “Normally, my patients are unconscious and willingly let me dissect their brain.  _Literally._ I’m in no way saying that I’m not capable of helping you, but this will be a learning experience for the two of us.”

Peter nodded.  “So, this where I sit back and talk about my feelings?”

“We could start there if you wanted.  Or we could begin with discussing your symptoms.  It’ll give me a better diagnosis — if there is anything to worry about,” Dr. Strange said.  His tone of voice shifted from casual to professional.  When Peter didn’t answer, Dr. Strange frowned.  “This is where you take over, Peter.  I’ve been doing enough talking as it is.”

Peter’s stomach knotted up.  Symptoms aren’t by any means personal, not as personal as Dr. Strange wants to make this, or at least plans on making it.  It wasn’t that Peter didn’t trust Dr. Strange, either.  It was natural instinct to keep this part of his life private.  “The usual,” Peter finally said.  “It’s hard sleeping at night sometimes.”

“Why do you think that is?”

“You know how when your body is at rest or you’re not active or you’re, I don’t know, sitting or something, your heart rate is supposed to slow?” Peter said.  “My body doesn’t do that.  When I first got these powers, that was normal.  I could hear sounds normal humans shouldn’t be able to hear.  Move at rates normal humans can’t.  And then I developed these spider-senses, and I changed the way I functioned.  I knew things were happening before they happened.  I reacted on instinct in a fight, not just instructions from my brain.  I can predict threats before it happens.  But now… all those things that kept me alive, don’t let me relax.  Like I’m constantly in danger.  It feels like my body is breaking down on me.”  Peter stopped himself, cheeks filling with color just like it had before. “I keep thinking bad things are happening when they’re not and so when I try to sleep, I’m so paranoid I can’t.”

Dr. Strange nodded, not bothering to write anything down — he wasn’t that kind of a doctor.  “What else?” he asked, and Peter was somewhat glad Dr. Strange didn’t ask Peter to delve deeper into that issue.

“Nightmares, but normally they’re not that bad,” Peter said.  Judging by the look on Dr. Strange’s face, Peter could only assume Tony told him about the night at the compound.  “Sometimes they are.  Sometimes they feel so real I think it’s happening again.  But I’ve only had nightmares like that a couple of times.  It’s—…”

“Relax.  I’m not here to judge you,” Dr. Strange said, holding his hands up in surrender.  “Tony said you had a panic attack in the middle of an active mission.”

Peter’s face went even redder, which he didn’t think was possible.  “Yeah,” he said, running his fingers through his hair nervously.  “It’s just… I was shot a couple of weeks ago — I’m fine now — but I think that may have brought up some bad memories.  I think that imminent fear of dying in the face of twenty automatic guns freaked me out a little bit.”

“You’re saying it’s the fear of dying that made you panic?”

“No.  I mean, yes but not because I suddenly afraid of dying,” Peter stammered.  “I am afraid of dying — a lot of people are.  It’s just… it’s was more the guns and everything.”

“Of course,” Dr. Strange said in a dubious tone.  “And what prompted Tony to convince you to talk to me?”

Peter bit on his lip.  “I was at school the other day at Decathlon practice.  Someone, just this harmless guy from school, was trying to get in through the back door and I thought he was — my spider-senses told me he was an enemy.  I attacked him.”  Though the event was still painfully recent, Peter’s memory seemed distorted, as though the practically sleepless night and the hours that passed in between was enough to warp his perception.  He remembered sitting beside MJ, remembered hearing the sounds of thumping on the door.  But Flash’s face — the face of the bad guy — it was one big blur.  The once clear image of an enemy Peter thought he saw was gone.  Peter can’t seem to remember _why_ he was propelled to attack Flash.  “I’m not crazy and I’m not violent, either.  But I don’t want to hurt anyone.”

“I understand,” Dr. Strange said.  “And no, you’re not crazy or violent.  You’re just a very powerful young man who needs a little bit guidance.  Again, nothing wrong with that.  Because you and I just met, I don’t expect you to be sharing any intimate secrets with me.  But do you mind if I ask you some questions?”

“Uh, sure.  That’s kind of what I’m here for, I guess.”

“True,” Dr. Strange said.  “Tony mentioned someone named Adrian Toomes, the criminal you fought off.  Do you think these… _complications_ stem directly from what happened with Mr. Toomes?”

“I’m not sure what you mean.”

“You’ve had a hard life.  Do you think some of the other events that happened in your life could have planted seeds of your PTSD?” Dr. Strange said.

Peter really didn’t like the phrase PTSD.  Again, PTSD equated to people going through seriously damaging and horrific events.  Peter didn’t like comparing his situation to that.  It wasn’t that Peter didn’t think he had a hard life.  He has, but he’s also been good at counting his blessings: getting to live with Aunt May has been a big one.  But in the back of Peter’s head, he always knew that if he were to write a list of the major events that happened in his life, the word ‘sad’ would be used to describe that list.  First with his parents dying.  Then with Uncle Ben, and the fact that that whole story was a complete, traumatic shit show.  Getting bullied all throughout school didn’t help.  Being called a loser, a nerd, basically every bad thing you could think of thrown his way all the while struggling through loss and survivor’s guilt (that’s a thing, right?).  The Spider-Man powers were another good beacon of light in his life, a way for Peter to make a real difference.  But that brought new levels of pain.  Real, physical pain like getting shot or having a building dropped on him.  And then serious emotional damage.  _Scarred_.  _Damaged_.  _Trauma_.  Peter was making himself sick just thinking about it.

“If you’re talking about Uncle Ben, you shouldn’t be,” Peter said, suddenly defensively.  What happened with his uncle was in the past, and Peter and May have worked hard to keep _that_ out of their lives.  They’d gone through the grieving process together, trudged through the awful mess of the legal process, faced the man who _killed_ Ben together.  It was a chapter in Peter’s life that was closed and shut, done and dealt with, never to come to the surface again.  Peter wasn’t ready to stir up those memories again.  Not ever.  “That’s not what we’re here to talk about.”

 “Okay,” Dr. Strange said.  “But suppressing you’re—”

“I’m not suppressing anything.  I’ve already dealt with that!  It’s in the past!” Peter said.  He hadn’t realized how loud he had gotten until he was finished speaking, practically hearing his voice echo throughout the massive hall.

Dr. Strange nodded.  “Fine.  That’s okay.  Why don’t we pick this up another time?” Dr. Strange finally said, and Peter grimaced.  He hadn’t meant to scare the doctor away, especially when he was trying to help Peter.  “Before we meet again, I want you think about when you started having these issues.  When did you have your first vivid nightmare?  Really think on that one.”  Peter knew what Dr. Strange was getting at, and it made Peter’s blood boil.   

“Fine,” Peter started walking toward the door but he quickly turned around and added, “Thank you.  I know you’re just trying to help.”

Dr. Strange smiled.  “It’s no problem.  And remember Peter, you’re never alone.”

Peter knew that.  If he was alone, he wouldn’t be going downstairs to May and Tony who looked concerned — they could probably hear the shouting.  If he was alone, he wouldn’t even be standing in the middle of Dr. Strange’s home, surrounded by people who were looking out for him.  He wouldn’t be forced to think about memories he didn’t want to think about.  But sometimes, especially when reality slipped away, especially when Peter found himself trapped in his mind as he thought of terrible things, Peter couldn’t help but _feel_ alone.

* * *

The next day, Peter was torn between knowing that he _should_ go to school and wanting to stay home.  May was perfectly understanding if he wanted to stay home Thursday, figured that waiting a little bit would give the school a chance to finish up gossiping before he returned.  But another part of him, the realistic part, knew that gossip would just start up again whenever he did go back to school.  Better to get it over with than to wait, let the rumors go crazy and then show up.  At least, he could get the truth out fast, make sure people get adjusted to his presence a little bit sooner.  So, Peter got dressed in very inconspicuous clothes (not that that would do any good for him), packed his backpack, ate a light breakfast and headed to school.  Lucky for him, he happened to have a free period this morning, which meant less time for Peer to be at school.

Midtown was lively and bustling as usual but when Peter stepped inside, hood down and trying to walk with confidence as though no one was even paying attention to him, all eyes and conversations seemed to turn to him.  No one was rude enough to point so that was at least comforting.  Fortunately, Peter arrived with just barely enough time to go to his locker and head to his next class, so at least he didn’t have to worry about dillydallying in the halls.  He found his chair in AP Economics quickly, hanging his head and flipping through his textbook to look like he was seriously occupied with whatever he was reading.  Peter made sure to find ways to look busy or at least keep himself distracted so that he didn’t notice how many people were staring at him.  He had that class with Ned, which was also good.  Acting overly concerned, asking if Peter was alright was the last thing Peter wanted and Ned knew that.  The two friends pretended as though nothing serious happened.  It wasn’t Ned ignoring the situation but it was more of him understanding that right now wasn’t the right time to bring it up.

Third period was just the same.  He had class with Gwen.  She made a point of sitting next to him, keeping him distracted with conversation whenever there was a break in class.  It was nice of her, especially when Peter knew everyone around him was desperate to ask questions.  Interrupting a conversation seemed to be a step above what his peers were willing to do so at least Peter was left alone.  He felt embarrassed, helpless, like a little kid who couldn’t take care of himself.  Peter would never outwardly express these feelings, not when he knew the alternative of Gwen talking to him was Peter either having to face difficult questions or find his mind wandering to the point of where he _overheard_ people’s conversations.

“You wanna sit together at lunch?” Gwen asked when the bell rang, excusing them from third period.  Again, it was just her way of being unnecessarily nice.

Peter didn’t turn her offer down, though.  “Yeah.  Just got to head to my locker.  I’ll meet you there.” His locker was just down the hall from his third period class so Peter figured he didn’t need Gwen escorting him there.  Wrong again.  With no one there to keep Peter distracted, he found himself listening in on the conversation that two senior girls were having a couple lockers away from him.

“I heard he had some kind of psychotic attack,” one girl, this red head with bushy hair, whispered.  She didn’t sound malicious, but that tone of judgement and fear was easy enough to detect.

“Apparently, he saw his uncle get killed,” the girl’s friend said back in that same damn tone.

Peter bit down on his lip hard.  Again, his brain was trying to force images in his head that he didn’t want.  Uncle Ben’s face.  More wrinkled around his forehead and under eyes compared to May.  Soft waves of brown hair that looked like a mop of curls sat on top of his head.  Very serious brown eyes reflected the austere person Ben grew to be.  Ben was unbelievably devoted to his marriage with May, to keeping Peter safe.  Peter could still remember the look on Ben’s face when he died, eyes staring up at Peter, terrified, agonized.

 _“It’s okay, Peter.  It’s okay…”_ Even as the last breath of life was slipping away, Ben was still thinking about Peter.  And May.  About their future, even though they would have to move on without Ben.  Even though —

“Hope he doesn’t go crazy and attack me,” the other one responded.

Blood rushed to Peter’s cheeks as he had to remind himself that he wasn’t in the alleyway with Ben anymore.  That he was at school, at Midtown.  The grip he had on his textbooks slackened, the books falling with a thud into his locker.  A small _ker-plunk_ echoed throughout the vast hallways.  The two girls turned to glance at him — Peter could feel their eyes burning into his profile.  He wanted to say something, thought he should defend himself.  But what the hell would happen if he did?  They would scream, freak out, attract attention that Peter wasn’t ready to handle.  Standing up for himself would make a scene and that was the last thing Peter wanted.  But he quickly realized he didn’t need to stand up for himself.

“You know, talking behind someone’s back is a pretty _shitty_ thing to do.”  It was MJ’s voice — not exactly the quiet, unjudging voice he has grown to be familiar with for the past year and a half.  Her voice was angry, _malicious_ , and it sent a shiver running up Peter’s back.  Peter turned to look at her.  She glared at the two girls, arms crossed.

The confrontation was more than the red-head had expected.  “Aren’t you a little bit concerned?  Because we—…”

“No, _I’m not_ ,” MJ stammered.  “So, you should back the hell off.”

“What’s going on?” Peter looked up to see the new person joining the conversation.  Flash Thompson, backpack thrown on his shoulder, expensive shoes and jacket and all, came walking up to the three girls.  He stood beside MJ, frowning.  “I’m pretty sure half the school can hear you guys shouting.”

“ _Nothing_ is wrong,” MJ said.  She glared at those two girls for one second longer before they closed their lockers and moved away quickly.  MJ and Flash glanced at each other and then back at Peter.  Peter thought his stomach was going to fall through his chest with the pitiful way that they looked at him.  They walked slowly to Peter’s side, Flash patting him on the back before walking to where Jason and Gwen were standing.

“You don’t have to stand up for me,” Peter said.  “I can take care of myself.”

MJ nodded.  “I know.”  There was a long pause in their conversation.  She glanced at Flash, Jason and Gwen before clearing her throat.  “I know Gwen already asked you to sit with her, but do you want to go eat in the library?  It’ll be nice and quiet and—”

Peter seized the opportunity.  “Yeah.  That sounds good.” 

He sent Ned and Gwen a quick text explaining why he wasn’t going to meet them up for lunch before following MJ to the second floor.  Like she had predicted, the library was relatively empty.  They found a cozy little place in the back corner where they knelt down, took out their lunch and ate in silence.  Peter felt like he was obligated to say something, explain to MJ that he at least wasn’t crazy, but she never asked questions, nor did she keep looking at Peter as though she was waiting for him to initiate a conversation.  Without the need to worry about talking to another person, Peter felt relaxed enough to slump lazily against the bookcase.

“Have you started reading _Moby Dick_?” MJ finally piped up.

Peter didn’t completely understand the question.  He blinked a couple of times.  “Sorry?”

“I loaned it to you a couple months ago.  I was just wondering if you’ve gotten around to reading it,” MJ said.  “I’m not asking for it back or anything.  I was just curious.”

It took Peter a couple of times to register what she had been talking about.  It clicked eventually.  That day Peter got lunch detention and the two of them got around to talking.  He borrowed _Moby Dick_ after they struck up a conversation about the books that she was always carrying around.  After a hectic couple of months, Peter must have just set it down somewhere in his room — his desk perhaps.  “Oh.  Right.  I completely forgot about that.  Sorry, I haven’t even started it.  I’ve been so busy and I just… I have a hard time sitting down and focusing.  Too jumpy.”

“I understand,” MJ said.  She looked back at her food, and Peter couldn’t tell if she was disappointed or not.  “You don’t have to go to practice today, either.”

Peter hadn’t even thought about Decathlon practice.  He really didn’t want to put his life on hold, especially after promising that he would be a more active member on the team.  Peter wanted to go, but the sheer thought of being around Flash, with the huge elephant filling up the entire gym, made Peter feel distraught.  He nodded, quickly.  “Yeah, maybe going to practice after what just happened wouldn’t be such a good idea.  I don’t want to distract anyone from getting work done.”

“You’re not a distraction,” MJ corrected.

“Of course not,” Peter muttered, though the sarcasm was very poorly hidden.  “I’ll go to the captain’s meeting on Friday, though.”

“Sure,” she said.  “We don’t have to do it here, though.  If you want we can go to a café or a park.  Or the library.”

MJ having to compromise their plans just for Peter didn’t seem right, but he wasn’t in the mood to argue.  “That’d be nice,” he finally said. 

“Yeah,” MJ said.  “We could get food from that one Mexican place you took me to before.  Figured I owed you a meal anyway.”

Peter was barely registering what MJ was saying anymore.  After keeping himself from slipping just barely below the surface, somehow managing to keep himself from thinking too hard, Peter’s mind began to wander.  The words those girls had said about him back in the hallway were flooding into his head.  _Saw his uncle get killed.  Aren’t you worried?_ He gave up on keeping himself afloat.  Let himself submerge in the pool of self-loathing.

“Peter?  You alright?”

“You shouldn’t be around me…” Peter whispered.  “Those girls are right…”

MJ frowned, a look of pity and irritation on her face.  “No.  _They’re not_ ,” she said firmly.  She reached forward, pressing her hand against his.  “Ignore them.  You would never hurt anyone.  You would never hurt me.  Or May.  You didn’t even hurt Flash.”

“I could…” And it was the truth.  If Peter hadn’t pulled back on the last second, he could have sent Flash to the hospital.  If he hadn’t came to soon enough, Peter could have hurt more people that day.  If he had thought everyone on the Decathlon team who were trying to pull Peter away from Flash were enemies, too, he could have hurt them.  What’s to say that Peter wouldn’t suddenly attack someone again?  What if Peter can’t break himself free and puts someone in the hospital?  “I don’t want to hurt you MJ.  I really don’t.”

“And you aren’t going to,” she said.  She sounded like she was telling the truth.  Peter knew she wouldn’t lie to him, especially not about this but that didn’t keep Peter from not believing her.  It didn’t make sense how she could trust him but when Peter didn’t even trust himself.

* * *

The entire Decathlon team worked hard to make sure that Peter felt welcomed back.  It was weird, seeing them try to pretend as though they weren’t looking at Peter any different when he knew they were.  The way they looked at him was enough for Peter to understand that they figured something was wrong with him psychologically.  Something was going on in Peter’s brain that told him to attack Flash.  And since Peter couldn’t control his actions, his team thought it’d be best to pretend nothing happened.  That didn’t help.  In fact, it made Peter feel more isolated, guilty that he was the reason everyone on the team, all of his friends, were so uncomfortable.  Even Flash and Jason went out of their way to be extra friendly to Peter, and if they really were trying hard to act like everything is normal, they wouldn’t do that.  This detachment and isolation he felt every time he left lunch or a brief meeting with the Decathlon team during break followed him wherever he went.

Things even seemed different with MJ, Tony and May, three people in his life who Peter thought would be unfazed, strong, non-compromising.  Tony was distant, nervous.  When Peter met with Dr. Strange the following Wednesday to explain what was going on with the others, Dr. Strange confidently said that Tony felt responsible.  _He_ was the person who gave Peter the Spider-Man suit.  Tony was the person that asked Peter to go to Germany, which, according to Tony, was a catalyst into prompting Peter to try to prove himself all of his sophomore year.  That led to Peter trying to take on Toomes by himself, but Tony couldn’t be farther from the truth.  Peter would have done that with or without going to Germany.  Getting the suit just made it safer for Peter.  May was just like Tony.  If she had been a better mother-figure in Peter’s life, maybe she would have caught on that something was going wrong.  She should have been able to notice that the sleepless nights weren’t just a result from nightmares. 

“Do you blame Aunt May?  Or Mr. Stark?” Dr. Strange asked.

Peter shook his head.  “No.  It wouldn’t be fair for me to blame them.  All they’ve done is try to help,” Peter admitted.  “They’re the reason I’m going to these… these meetings.  Whatever you want to call them.”

Dr. Strange’s face was blank.  That was something about Dr. Strange that really irked Peter.  He always had this somewhat contentious look on his face.  Peter couldn’t tell what Dr. Strange was thinking.  “Tony said you had a girlfriend?”

“What about her?”

“How much does she know?”

Peter shrugged.  To be honest, he hasn’t told MJ or even Ned a lot about what’s going on with him.  MJ knows that he’s had a traumatic life — _everyone_ at Midtown knew that, but that was about the extent of her knowledge.  “A little bit.  She’s know my parents and uncle died.”

“But that’s it?” Dr. Strange asked.

Peter nodded.  “Pretty much.  Can’t exactly tell her I’m Spider-Man.”

“If she found out, would you trust her to keep it a secret?” Dr. Strange asked.

There wasn’t much need to think about the answer to that question.  “Yeah,” Peter said.  They hadn’t been dating for that long, just a couple of months, but Peter knew MJ well enough to know that she doesn’t seem like the kind of person to go spreading secrets.  “But just because I trust her doesn’t mean I would go around and tell her about Spider-Man.  It’s called a secret identity for a reason.”

“I understand,” Dr. Strange mused.  “It’s just, you would trust her enough to tell her about Spider-Man but not about what’s happening with you?”

Peter rolled his eyes.  “I don’t think it’s fair to burden her like that.  Not when we just started dating.” 

He didn’t think MJ would be the kind of person to be scared away if Peter told her the truth, but he still wasn’t sure how she would react.  Even now, with her knowing just a little glimpse of his life, things have changed… it wasn’t because of MJ, though.  She wasn’t embarrassed to be around him, or scared for that matter.  She always put in such an effort to not let what happened at practice get in the way of their relationship.  She has been more noticeably protective of people, making sure that no one talked about him behind his back or at least tried to the set the record straight if anyone was getting the story hard.  MJ kept Peter within the boundaries and comfort zones that _he_ set.  She was trying to cheer Peter up, too.  After their captain’s meeting on Friday, MJ came back to Peter’s apartment where they watched a couple episodes of the _Office_ before MJ somehow stumbled upon her copy of _Moby Dick_.  She made an effort to come over for an hour everyday leading up to this Wednesday and read to Peter.  It wasn’t her fault that Peter couldn’t find the same energy he had before the disaster with Flash.  Even when spending time with her used to make Peter _so_ unbelievably happy, the numbness Peter seemed to always feel didn’t go away.

“I’m not saying you should tell MJ,” Dr. Strange said.  “But when you’re trying to recover from traumatic events, it’s best to do it with people you can trust whole-heartedly.  You just need to make sure that you trust MJ that way.  And your friends, too.  What you’re going through will be difficult.  Your friends need to have your best interest at heart.”  It wasn’t an accusation against MJ or Ned.  It was a remainder and at the very least it was reaffirming to Peter because he knew he trusted MJ and Ned that way.

“Do you think I _should_ tell her?” Peter asked.

“Not necessarily,” Dr. Strange said.  “As you said, you two just started dating and you don’t normally tell someone you just started going out with deep secrets.  But if this relationship continues, you might want to consider telling her _something_.”

“Like?” Peter asked.

“That’s up to you.  If you have a flashback, a panic attack when you’re around, it’ll worry her if she doesn’t know what’s going on.  It’ll worry all of your friends,” Dr. Strange explained.

Peter knew that already.  The entire team thought Peter was losing his marbles, even though he has tried on countless occasions to tell them he was alright.  “Okay…” Peter finally said since he didn’t have anything else to add.

“Have you thought about your history with trauma?” Dr. Strange asked, changing the subject quickly.

“A little,” Peter admitted, though that was an understatement.  Every night Peter had to fight off the urge to scream for his uncle.  As though Peter was still in seventh grade, Peter was longing for a dead man that would never be there to answer back.  He thought he had gotten over it.  Forgotten about it.  _Moved on_.  But as new wounds came to break Peter into pieces, old memories arrived to do the job instead.  One relentless cycle.

“And?”

“I guess it would have been abnormal if I didn’t have nightmares after watching Uncle Ben _die_ ,” Peter muttered.

That session ended shortly thereafter.  Peter didn’t have to go into details with Dr. Strange about what happened with Ben, but he figured that the topic of Ben’s death would likely come up in the next meeting.  He and May drove back to their apartment in silence, ate dinner in silence.  Peter had another sleepless night, fighting off demons in his own mind as he tried hard to forget.  The face of the mugger.  Ben. 

_It was his fault._

When Peter’s alarm went off, he shut it off and rolled around bed, dragging himself around his room to get ready for school that day.  “I can pick you and MJ up after Decathlon practice if you want,” May said as she pulled into the parking lot.

“Okay,” Peter whispered.

“And maybe tonight we can go out for dinner?  Your choice.  How’s that sound?” May asked.

“Fine,” Peter said.

“Love you,” May said as she pulled up to the curb of Midtown.

“Love you,” Peter muttered back.  He watched as May peeled away from school before turning to glance at the front door.  Sitting behind a desk.  Listening to teachers go on about things that didn’t matter.  As though Peter’s life was normal, like he blended in with every other student around him.  Peter wasn’t in the mode to put up with such a bullshit façade.

Peter knew he wasn’t going to class before he was even turning away from Midtown, feeling absolutely no desire or interest or energy to deal with school right now.  Peter’s mind was wandering, eyes trailing across the fence, the cars, the students going to class thinking that nothing was wrong when in actuality nothing was right.  Peter could feel reality slipping away as he moved farther and farther away Midtown.  He found himself in downtown Queens, passing Mr. Delmar’s beloved deli.  Mr. Delmar must have noticed Peter because he waved with an inquisitive look.  Peter could practically hear Mr. Delmar ask _why aren’t you at school, Peter_?  He diverted his attention as he moved swiftly beyond the deli. 

 _“Why do you always hav_ e _to be so ungrateful all the damn time?”_ Ben’s voice rung clear and sharp, as though the old man was still standing beside Peter.  Peter was fighting back the urge to scream in response, that sudden burst of anger Peter felt all those years ago surging through his veins again.  “ _May and I do nothing but take care of you_ —”

Peter’s path changed.  He didn’t have a set destination before but he does now.  And the thoughts that come back leave a terrible bitterness inside him.  Peter’s angry, pissed off.  Vengeful.  At Ben.  At May.  At himself.  They got on his ass that day.  Peter was supposed to go grocery shopping after school but he forgot — some new comic was coming out that day and he wanted to go to the grand opening.

“ _Peter, I told you_ —” May started.  She never raised her voice.  _Never._ Not with Ben, not with Peter, not when the neighbors were being unreasonable when she asked them to be quieter at night but she was angry now.  She had a bad day: customers were yelling at her at work, she missed some important call so her boss got on her ass, she wasn’t sure if she or Ben were going to make ends meet for the upcoming rent.  Peter was supposed to do one thing for her and he didn’t.  “ _You have to be more responsible.  You’re growing up!  Act like it!”_

“ _All I see you do is watch movies at night and you’re getting pissed at me for going to a comic book store!”_ Peter shot back.  He knew now that he was being unreasonable… if he had just listened to May…

_“I asked you to do something so simple and you can’t even do that!”_

_“Fine!  I’ll go now!”_ Peter snatched the white envelope sitting on the counter labeled ‘grocery money.’  He raced for his jacket, heading straight for the front.

“ _No.  It’s dark and late!  I don’t want you_ —” May started but Peter was too frustrated, too immature to stop himself from listening to her. 

He should have.  It was too dangerous for some seventh grader to be walking down the street to the grocery store. Peter was too stubborn to listen to reason, though, and he went anyway.  Hurried his way down the block, past Mr. Delmar’s establishment and across a few blocks to get closer to the heart of Queens.  He got to the grocery store soon, did the shopping for May.  During the walk over, Peter came to realize that he should have been nicer to May.  For someone who had sacrificed so much for Peter, so selflessly taken him under her wing after his parents died, May was taken for granted for all the time.  With some of the extra money he had leftover, Peter bought May her favorite chocolate bar as a peace offering.  But when he left the store to walk back, it was darker now and Peter was just unobservant.  _Stupid_.  He took the wrong turn… Went down Lincoln Avenue instead of A Street.  The streets got shadier, darker —

“You just bumped into me and you’re not going to apologize?” a gruff sounding man snapped at Peter.  He was standing beside his girlfriend.

Peter turned to look at the guy: big and burly, clearly used to intimidating anyone and everyone.  During his sudden relapse, Peter must have not been paying attention.  They might have bumped shoulders — Peter’s not sure.  But whatever happened, it was enough to piss the stranger off.  He had this smug smirk on his face, probably expecting Peter to fall onto his knees and beg for forgiveness.  What Peter really wanted to do was clock the guy.  Show him a thing or two about manners. 

 _“Why do you have to pick a fight over everything?”_ Ben said.  Peter was lucky.  When he ran out, May must have called Uncle Ben because he went looking for him.  On the way back from the grocery store, Ben had spotted Peter, who was wandering through some of the alleyways as he tried to loop his way back into the main road.  Ben was pissed.

“You deaf?” the man snapped back.

Peter _should_ punch this guy.  But he didn’t.  _With great power comes great responsibility_.  “Sorry,” Peter spit out before running across the street.

With those two strangers gone, Peter’s mind went spiraling out of control again.  _“Get away from me!”_ Peter had yelled back to Ben all those years ago.  Any thoughts of reconciling with May and Uncle Ben at that point were gone.  Extinguished.  Peter moved across the alley, heading in the opposite direction of the main road.  He shouldn’t have done that.

“ _Get back here!  Don’t go down there!”_

Ben wasn’t just angry.  He was scared.  This wasn’t a place where some kid should just wander around alone unless —

 _“Money.  Now.”_ For someone who grew in the heart of New York, Peter always knew in the back of his head that mugging happened, but he never thought it would happen to him.  Never crossed his mind that that might have been the reason May didn’t want Peter walking the streets by himself.  Peter was petrified, gasping for Ben as the mugger pointed a gun to his forehead.

“ _He’s just a kid!  Please don’t hurt him.”_ Ben was begging, crying, pleading.

Peter still isn’t sure what happened to this day.  The doctors that checked on Peter after what happened threw in words of memory distortion or repression.  Peter still can’t remember if there was a noise, a voice coming from the road.  Maybe sirens.  Or perhaps Peter jerked a little bit as though he was trying to make a break for it.  Maybe Uncle Ben made a move for the mugger.  But the gun went off, nonetheless.  Echoed in the alleyway.  Peter’s ears rung as the sound of the gun reverberated in the empty alley.  The mugger shot Ben in the chest.  Apparently the scum bag of a criminal hadn’t planned on killing anyone and he got spooked.  Didn’t even care to steal the money Ben had.  Just off and ran.

_“It’s not your fault.”_

_“Do you remember what the mugger looked like?”_

_“Are you alright?”_

_“I’m so glad you’re safe.”_

Lots of tears and pain and sorrow.  Pity.  Peter hated the pity, the way that the teachers and students at his junior high looked at him when the news spread, or the way that even May looked at him.

Peter was standing at the St. Pauls cemetery now.  It was pretty small compared to the other Roman Catholic cemeteries around Queens, but Peter’s parents had been buried here and so was Uncle Ben.  Considering that he rarely goes here, too many bad memories associated with this place, Peter was surprised that he managed to find his way without any trouble.  It was mid-Wednesday morning, so the cemetery was basically deserted beyond a couple of parked cars on the side of the road and up the street.  But for the most part, Peter was alone.  A small little path led away from the parking lot into the heart of the cemetery.  It was silent, the only sounds coming from quiet sobs.  The atmosphere mournful.  The gloomy overcast only worsened the environment — if Peter was in English class, his teacher would be analyzing the heck out of the cemetery.

Uncle Ben’s grave was in the D-Lot, a far walk from the parking lot.  He strode carefully onto the path toward the three gravestones.  Richard and Mary Parker.  Buried together.  Because Peter was so young when they died in the plane crash, he could barely comprehend what was happening.  The grief was just as difficult when Uncle Ben died, but the naivety that came with being five-years-old made processing the gruesome fact of how his parents died much more difficult.  Peter turned to look at the next tombstone.  _In loving memory of Ben Parker._ It was a little marred, but since it was only a few years old, it was in pretty good condition.  _Loving husband and uncle.  June 13, 1965 – February 22, 2013._ The last time Peter came here was in eighth grade on the anniversary of Ben’s death.  He had been with May, a short, painful visit.  It was supposed to be an attempt at closure.

Every time Peter thought he was getting over Ben’s death, another thing would just gouge it right open, make it hurt even more.  “You used to always get on my case for not being responsible enough with May, right?  But I was just a kid.  I shouldn’t have to be responsible.  I should have to be allowed to screw up.  I didn’t want to have to pick up the pieces of a life without you _…_ I was supposed to be a kid.  I should be able to play video games all day.  Not worry about things like whether or not I’m going to be safe at night.  You were supposed to be the adult…”  His voice faltered, face feeling hot.  There was no one around, which was good because Peter was sure he was screaming like a maniac.  Tears dripped down his face.  “You — you were supposed to be there for me when I needed you,” Peter barely managed.  “I — _I_ need you now.”

Peter needed Ben.  Needed someone to pull him out of this terrible, miserable, _god-awful_ darkness.  Needed someone to guide him to the surface, even though Peter could feel himself slipping further and further away.

But no one would come.

He was alone.


	9. A Life Worth Living

_“Trauma creates change you don’t choose._

_Healing is about creating change you do choose.”_

_~ Michelle Rosenthal ~_

Chapter Nine: A Life Worth Living

Peter lost track of time without meaning to.  What he thought was just a couple of minutes must have slipped into a couple of hours.  And even though time dragged itself forward, Peter was left crumbled up in front of his parents’ and his uncle’s tombstones.  It felt as though the world had stopped moving.  The little sanity he had going for him, pulled away.  He had sunk to his knees, legs pressed against the wet earth as it groaned under his added weight.  The fabric of his jeans was soaked through from the ground, but Peter didn’t bother to move or even find a more comfortable position.  The will to keep crying was lost eventually, too.  He felt stupid almost, the sheer thought that sobbing his heart out was going to do anything to change the painful reality he had to face.

He had to face the truth.  Losing someone he loved wasn’t a unique experience to him.  And he for sure wasn’t the only person trying to find their footing after Uncle Ben’s death shook their world almost to the point of no recovery.  May went through the same thing.  Might even _still_ be going through the grieving process.  Because Ben was just an uncle to Peter, but to May, he was her whole life.  They had been married for at least ten years before Peter went to live with her and had known each other for almost their whole life.  And she lost him.  Peter was too busy with his grieving process to spare a second for her. 

After being so caught up in his own thoughts, Peter didn’t even realize that it was nighttime.  The sun was nearly set, the air suddenly felt chillier, as though his body finally came to recognize just how _freezing_ it was outside.  Peter’s limbs felt so numb he didn’t think he could get up.  “You alright son?”  Peter barely craned his neck, wiping tears off his face as he turned to see who was approaching him.  It was an older man, _much_ older, wisps of gray hair sitting in tufts on the top of his head.  He was bundled in a heavy jacket, mittens and hats, another indication of how poorly dressed Peter had been for the weather; another shiver racked his body.

“Uh, yeah,” Peter barely managed.  His voice waivered as he spoke.

“I’m part of the management on duty here,” the man said.  He went to stand by Peter’s side, eyes wide, very concerned.  “You’ve been here all day.  I just wanted to make sure that you were alright.”  He glanced at the gravestones in front of Peter.  “You know them?”

Peter nodded.  “Yeah.  Parents and uncle.”

“Shit,” was all the man could muster in response.  “I’ve seen a lot of sad faces around in my day.  I keep thinking to myself that I’d get used to it, that it wouldn’t shock me as much…  Hasn’t happened yet.”  A long pause filled the air.  Peter figured that the man was going to leave him alone but then the cemetery worker cleared his throat and said, “Look, son, I understand that it’s hard to lose someone—”

_You don’t understand a damn thing._

“—I lost a wife myself after all, but they’re not going to want you to stop living your life,” he finished.  Peter grimaced.  This little conversation wasn’t exactly what Peter wanted to hear right now, but he had no energy to say anything in response.  “You got anyone you can call to pick you up?” 

 _Now_ Peter understood why they were having this conversation in the first place.  He could take a hint.  “Sorry…  I’ll get out of your hair,” Peter fumbled.  His legs were shaking as he barely got to his feet, knees groaning and aching from both the uncomfortable position Peter had been sitting in for perhaps hours as well as the freezing weather icing his legs.  “Um, and no, there’s really no one I want to see right now.”  That didn’t mean Peter didn’t think he had anyone.  May, Tony, even MJ or Ned would have dropped whatever it is they were doing to come pick Peter up, but he wasn’t ready to face them.

“How about I call a taxi for you?” the man offered.

“Okay,” Peter nodded.

“You might want this kid,” the man said, handing Peter a soft wool blanket.

Peter shrugged.  “Thanks,” Peter whispered.  He took hold of the wool blanket, shakily wrapping it around his shoulders.  “Sorry to bother you…” Peter whispered.

He didn’t wait for the caretaker to respond before he went to the parking lot and waited for the taxi to come pick him up.  Fortunately, the taxi driver seemed to understand that Peter wasn’t in the mood for a conversation so the drive back to Peter’s apartment was absolutely silent.  He tried hard not to think about what he was going to tell Aunt May.  Disappearing for an extended period of time was a good way to piss May off, but he didn’t want to think about that right now.  Peter spent most of the drive back to his apartment trying to pull himself together.  Wipe the tears from his eyes, try to still his shaking hands.  When the taxi driver stopped in front of Peter’s apartment, Peter glanced at the price of his ride, groaning. 

“Don’t worry about it,” the driver said.  “You look like you’ve had a bad day.”

Peter grimaced because that was an understatement, not to mention Peter was facing all that pity he hated so much.  Considering that he didn’t have any money, however, Peter decided to just thank the guy and move on.  He slipped his backpack on and headed toward his place.  When he reached his apartment, he stared at his front door for a long second, hand gripping the key nervously.  His keen hearing was telling him that there must have been a large, hysteric group of people inside his apartment — the sound of footsteps scurrying around was a good indication of that.  Swallowing his pride — _he’d have to face everyone eventually_ — Peter put the key into the hole and unlocked the door.  Just as Peter expected, May must have called in the entire cavalry: Rhodes, Vision and even Dr. Strange were pacing back and forth in the kitchen or living; Tony was by the kitchen table, one hand pressed on May’s shoulder; a police officer — Peter recognized his face from the months of working in the court system after Ben’s death; Ned was sitting on one of the couches, hands twirling his cell phone nervously; and MJ was leaning against a wall nearest his bedroom, _Moby Dick_ clutched in her hands.  Getting a good look at her face, at everyone’s face, Peter realized he screwed up bad.  Everyone looked so worried, like they were going to be sick.  May’s face was streaked with tears.

“I — I don’t know where he could have gone,” May sputtered to the police officer.  “I dropped him off at — at…”  She looked over at Peter, who was doing nothing but standing awkwardly by the door.

When Peter stepped inside, the tense room seemed to explode with a flurry of emotion: anger, mixed with relief, mixed with fear.  All eyes were on Peter, scrutinizing him.  May was the first person to come to Peter’s side.  She grabbed hold of Peter’s shoulders, assessing his appearance to check for injuries.  “Where the hell have you been?” She demanded, pulling him into a fervent hug.  The way she clenched onto him, like she had thought she wasn’t going to see Peter ever again, made Peter’s stomach spasm.

“I see you have the situation under control,” Officer Trevor said — the name immediately came back to Peter when he got a better look at the man.  Officer Trevor collected his things from the kitchen counter and lumbered toward the front door.

“We’re so sorry for the trouble,” May said.

Officer Trevor shook his head.  “It’s no trouble.  I’m glad Peter is okay.”  He patted the teenager on the back.  “You take care, son.  Good night, ma’am,” Officer Trevor said politely to May.  With that, he shut the door behind him. 

Now that the officer was out of Peter’s room, May was ready to go full-blown psycho aunt.  “Do you know how worried sick we’ve been?!  You don’t show up to school, you don’t come home, your phone is off.  Peter, we thought something…”  May stopped herself.  “We thought something was wrong.  We thought you were hurt.  You can’t go running off like that!  Where were you?”

Peter stared into his aunt’s eyes for a long second, taking in the hurt in her eyes, the redness and puffiness from when she was probably crying.  _The same way she looked when Ben died._ “It’s my fault,” Peter whispered as he stared at May.  He never wanted to hurt May, but he kept doing it, kept tearing her life apart because of his own problems.  “It’s my fault.”  Peter could hear the sounds of May sobbing from the night she found out about Ben.

“What are you talking about?” May asked.

“Ben died because of me,” Peter said again.  He choked on the words.  As he said them, he let himself truly grasp the magnitude of what he was saying.  It wasn’t acceptance or closure.  Those two things were so far out of reach Peter didn’t even consider them to be on the playing field… but this was something.  A realization, a new understanding, admitting a flaw.  And it was enough to make Peter crumple to the ground, as though the weight of his words were being dropped onto his back.

But Peter didn’t fall like he expected.  His knees didn’t go crashing onto the ground as he let out a terrible gasp of a sob.  May’s arms were around him, wobbling at the sudden added exertion of trying to hold Peter up.  Tony and Ned were both lunging forward too, perhaps on instinct as they recognized that Peter was about to go to the ground with a huge thud.  A blur of arms and hands were grabbing hold of Peter, keeping him upright.  It took Peter a couple of seconds for him to focus in on May’s face as she stared into Peter’s eyes.  Her hands wrapped around Peter’s face, cradling him as though he was a kid again and she was waking him up from a nightmare.  But it didn’t matter.  Peter lost himself in May’s arms, let himself wail out a sob into her chest.

“Shhhh,” May whispered.  She runs her hands through Peter’s hair as she cradled him.  “It’s not your fault.”

“I’m sorry,” Peter choked out again.  “It’s…  He left us.”

“It’s okay.  I’m here,” May said.  Peter could feel her own tears mixed with his as he clung onto his aunt.  “And I’m not going to leave you.  I’m here.”

It took almost twenty minutes to calm Peter down.  And by calming Peter down, that simply means May and Tony managed to subdue the crying for a little bit of time.  Just because he wasn’t crying, though, doesn’t necessarily mean that Peter had gotten past this hump.  Whatever he should call it.  His body felt numb both from the cold and from not caring anymore.  He sat on the ground of the living room, watching as May and Tony exchanged meaningful glances before the two adults turned to MJ and Ned.  Peter somehow completely forgotten that the two of them were standing in his apartment.  He shouldn’t be ashamed for them to see it, but it wasn’t exactly a side of Peter with which MJ or Ned were familiar.

“Do you want to go to your room?” May asked.  She still had one arm on Peter’s shoulder, leaning in close to whisper into his ear.

“Sure,” he muttered.

“MJ, Ned,” May said.  The two teenagers standing awkwardly in the corner rushed forward now that they were beckoned.  “Why don’t you take Peter into his room?  Spend time with you?”

“Sure,” Ned said.

He gripped onto Peter’s arm and helped hoist him off the ground.  MJ went ahead to get the door open for the three of them.  Peter ashamedly stared into his bedroom, looking at the clothes strewn on the ground, the piles of paper casted lazily around and on his desk.  The place seemed so foreign and the mess…  _god,_ the mess felt like it was ramping Peter’s heart rate up.  Whatever was making Peter freak out so much at the sight of his bedroom caught MJ and Ned’s attention.  They glanced at each other, this look of concern and discomfort obvious on their faces.  MJ put one hand on Peter’s arm, brushing his forearm up and down soothingly. 

“What’s wrong?” MJ asked.

Peter didn’t look around.  “I should really clean-up for you guys.  Didn’t realize I was going to have company.”  He made a move toward his desk — at the very least organizing papers and putting pencils into a cup-holder wouldn’t take much energy or even thoughtfulness.

“No, no, no.  It’s okay,” MJ said.  “We’ll take care of it.”  One of her fingers brushed against his own, and she pulled away, whether that be unintentionally or not.  “You’re freezing,” MJ finally said.  Ned didn’t spare a second.  MJ still keeping a hold onto Peter, Ned preoccupied himself with digging through Peter’s dressers until he found Peter’s sweatpants and the warm, navy blue Midtown Decathlon team sweatshirt they ordered his freshman year.  “Why don’t you go to the bathroom and change?  We’ll be right out here.”

Peter didn’t say anything.  Just took the clothes and went to the bathroom, dressing himself in the sweats.  His body was moving without thinking, going on auto-pilot without a single thought crossing his mind.  When he returned, he realized that in the short span of time it took for him to change, MJ and Ned had taken it upon themselves to pick up Peter’s room.  The dirty clothes thrown on the ground were probably in his laundry hamper; the folded clothes he hadn’t gotten around to putting away were no longer in stacks by the side of his closet.  His homework was neatly stacked in a pile on his desk.  Considering Peter was only gone for just a couple of seconds, he was impressed with what MJ and Ned accomplished. 

MJ was holding out a pair of clean socks, too.  Obediently, he put it on.  Ned took the pile of wet clothes from Peter and tossed into the laundry hamper.  Now that that was out of the way, Peter looked to see what else he needed to do.  “Thanks…” Peter whispered, though that surely didn’t feel like a sufficient enough sign of gratitude.  He knew Ned and MJ were over here because they cared about him.  He knew this, but that didn’t stop him from feeling like a burden on the two of them.

“Do you want to lie down?” MJ offered.  She turned to glance at Peter’s unmade bed.  All Peter managed was a curt nod.  With his sign of approval, Ned went to go lift the sheets up from his bed and the two of them eased Peter into the sheets.  MJ helped pull the sheets over Peter, tucking it slightly at the sides but still keeping it loose enough so that Peter felt like he could move around.  Exactly the way that he liked it.  “Do you need anything else?”

“I’m okay,” he finally managed.

“Are you tired?  Hungry?” MJ asked again.

The constant questions, pandering almost, made anger suddenly surge through Peter.  “I said I’m _okay_ ,” he snapped.  The second the words came out of his mouth, he regretted it.

Fortunately, that didn’t let MJ bother her.  “Alright.  I believe you,” she said. 

She took a seat on the ground, her face eye-level with Peter now that he was lying down, while Ned took a seat by Peter’s desk.  With Ned and MJ finally settled down, unmoving, Peter tried to let his mind focus on the two of them.  How the weariness in their eyes hadn’t seemed to go away yet.  Ned was jittery, legs bouncing up and down.  That wasn’t a surprise to Peter.  Ever since they had known each other, Peter picked up on the fact that, when nervous, Ned had a hard time forcing himself to sit still.  MJ, however, was biting her lip hard, glancing in Peter’s direction when she thought he wasn’t looking.  He didn’t like seeing her this nervous, especially if it was because of him.  At the same time, Peter wasn’t sure what to say to her — if there was even anything that would console her.  The truth wouldn’t be able to help.  It would be a layer of confusion for her, probably Ned, too, since Peter’s problems were so much than just the stress of being Spider-Man.  Not even Ned would be able to understand this.

Peter can feel a headache starting — or maybe it was the spider-senses acting up all of sudden.  Peter had noticed that they’ve been doing that recently.  Every time his mind finds itself clinging onto memories of Uncle Ben, _his death_ , the tingling in the back of his head starts.  It’s barely noticeable, but it seemed almost permanent at this point and the more Peter paid attention to the spider-senses, the more it started to make his head throb.

They sat in silence.  Words failed all three of them as the reality of what happened began to set in, as the adrenaline starts to wear off and Peter can finally digest today’s events.  He felt tired, knew that he should try to get to sleep but every time his eyes shut, Peter can see Uncle Ben’s face, hear his voice.  _You don’t stop living, Peter.  Don’t do that._   

“What the hell is going on with him?”  Peter heard Aunt May say — he’d be able to recognize her voice from anywhere.

“We’ve seen this before.”  It was Colonel Rhodes. 

“Seen it?  Hell, I’ve lived through this,” added Tony.

“What am I supposed to do?  I don’t know how to help him,” May said.  “Stephen, you’re supposed to be — I thought you said he was making breakthroughs at the sessions.”  Peter grimaced, involuntarily, because the word _sessions_ as opposed to conversations implied something completely different.  It implied _therapy_ , and that wasn’t something Peter was ready to admit to himself.

“I didn’t say he was making breakthroughs.  I said it seemed like he was on the _verge_ of making a breakthrough.  And a breakthrough doesn’t mean miraculous recovery by any means,” Dr. Strange said.  “It just means dramatic or sudden discovery.  I was hoping he would start to understand that his trauma originated beyond what—”

“MJ doesn’t know about what happened at the beginning of the year,” Tony said, and the meaning behind that was obvious.

“Oh,” Dr. Strange said.  “I thought he was coming to realize that his trauma may have started to develop when he was younger.  When his uncle died.”

“So, that’s why he all of sudden can’t stop thinking of Ben?” May said. 

“Are you suggesting it would have been better if Peter just kept it all bottled in?  Let these thoughts about his uncle dying boil up inside of him without me knowing about it?” Dr. Strange said, his voice rising just slightly.

May let out a heavy sigh.  “What do we do now?” May asked.  “This is — he attacked someone at school.  He has nightmares all the time.  He looked exactly like he did when Ben was killed! How do—”  Her voice cut off by the sound of a choked sob.  There was some shuffling of feet and then Peter heard the sound of a chair being scrapped against the wooden floor. 

“May?  May why don’t you sit down?” Vision offered.

“There’s always medication Peter can take,” Rhodes said.  “Selective serotonin reuptake inhibitor.  SSRIs.  It’s a form of antidepressants.  I’ve seen plenty of army men take it.  Sometimes it helps—”

“I don’t want him on medication,” Tony snapped.  “He’s just a kid.”

“A kid who’s been through a lot of—…”

Without realizing it, MJ had gotten up from her spot and closed Peter’s bedroom door.  The sound of his door shutting was enough to make the adults pause their conversation.  “Do you want to read?” MJ offered.

She picked up her copy of _Moby Dick_ that was sitting on the edge of Peter’s desk.  Peter’s brain was filled in unwanted thoughts, dark and lingering, and Peter merely gave MJ a curt nod.  She took that to mean yes.  MJ plopped onto the edge of Peter’s bed, nestling against one of the posts of his bedframe before pulling the bookmark out and continuing where they left off.  Peter tried to pay attention to the story.  The plot was deep, a dense novel with even denser chapters.  It took all of Peter’s energy to try and understand what was happening in the story.  Too much energy that Peter’s head began to throb and he let out a throaty moan as he leaned his head against the pillow.

“What’s wrong?” MJ asked, closing _Moby Dick._ She leaned over Peter, pressing her hand against Peter’s forehead.  She ran her fingers against Peter’s temples in soothing circles before pulling away.  “Why don’t we let him get some sleep?”

“Might as well,” Ned said.  “Kinda hungry, anyway.  You think May would let us have any of that leftover lasagna?”

“Probably,” MJ said.

“You want me to get you a plate?” Ned offered.

“Sure,” she said.  “I’ll stay with Peter.”

“Okay…” Ned whispered.

He slipped the door quietly, just barely closing it to perhaps make sure that it wouldn’t make a lot of noise in case Peter was having a migraine.  With Ned gone, MJ rolled over to look at Peter.  She drew in a deep breath and let out in a shaky, exasperated sigh.  She stared down at Peter, her wide, _beautiful_ eyes taking in his near-broken appearance.  She lightly brushed Peter’s cheeks with her fingers, which were soft and warm and gentle.  A kind caress that felt great against Peter’s icy skin.  “Why don’t you try to go to sleep, okay?”  MJ leaned down, pressing a kiss on his temple.  Peter obeyed her as much as he can, shut his eyes.  The emotional upheaval Peter had just underwent clearly had taken a toll on his energy level because he found himself drifting.

Peter expected nothing less than nightmares, and that was exactly what came.  Not a nightmare necessarily, but a memory.  A memory of the night that Uncle Ben died.  When the gun had gone off, apparently one of the neighboring businesses, a local clothing store owned by this young couple trying make a name for themselves in Queens, had heard what happened.  The husband came running out, still in his robe, and a heavy-looking flashlight in head.  He brandished the weapon in the alleyway, but when the flashlight illuminated Peter, just this frail-looking kid sobbing over the body of his dead uncle, the man gasped out, yelled for his wife to call the police.

 _“You don’t you come into the street with us?”_ the wife said.  She was kind.  So was her husband.  But they didn’t know what it was like, didn’t understand what Peter was feeling because no one was supposed to watch a person they loved get shot.  And that was the one reason Peter couldn’t leave Ben’s side.  It couldn’t be true.  No one should be allowed to die like this, so Peter refused to leave his uncle’s side.

 _“We just found him like this.  He wouldn’t move,”_ the husband explained to the first responders.  It took two cops to eventually drag Peter away from Ben.  His body, more technically.  And the first time that Peter admitted it was Ben’s _body_ , not _Ben_ , Peter found himself in a fit of sobs, some cop who had three kids at home going over to console the little boy in the ambulance. 

Peter’s eyes opened, feeling crusty and in pain.  He just barely rolled over to look at the alarm clock sitting on his bed to see what time it was, only to realize that just a couple hours had passed since he fell asleep.  It was 11:30.  Ned wasn’t here anymore and judging by the fact that Peter couldn’t see his friend’s backpack anywhere, Peter assumed that he had gone home.  Half-expecting that MJ had also gone home, he was surprised when he saw that she was still here.  He watched her for a couple of seconds.  She brushed a strand of her hair out of her eyes and just her eyes was enough of an indication to show that she was exhausted. 

“You should go to sleep,” he muttered.  “Or go home.  Ned did.”

MJ looked over at Peter, yawning.  She went to his side, knelt down to look into his eyes.  “No.  No, it’s okay.  My dad is out of town and Kevin is at a friend’s house.”

“Oh…” Peter said.  “Then you should try to sleep.  I’m sure I can get some blankets and sleep on the floor if you want the bed.”

MJ smiled.  “Trying to be a gentleman, huh.  I really don’t mind.  After all, you look like you need to get a good night’s sleep a little bit more than me.”

Peter looked away, embarrassed.  “Um, I’m really sorry if I scared you today.  I was just so caught up—…”

“Don’t apologize for what happened, Peter,” MJ interrupted.  The tone of her voice, the way she cut Peter off so abruptly sounded harsh almost, though Peter knew it wasn’t supposed to be.  Her features softened slightly as she continued, “You don’t need to apologize.  Why can’t you just accept that I’m here because I care about you?”  Again, she wasn’t angry with Peter.  Just firm.  Steady.  And Peter really needed that right now. 

He nodded.  “Sorry,” he said, sheepishly.

MJ’s face softened.  “How did you sleep?”

Peter shrugged.  “Could have been better,” he admitted.  “Guess it could have been worse, too.”  Just thinking about his dream sent a shiver down Peter’s spine.  He looked away from MJ right before a few tears found its way out of Peter’s eye.  His cheeks flushed red as he began to dab at his eyes.  “Sorry.  Sorry,” he stammered out.  “Don’t know what’s wrong with me today…”

“Shhh,” MJ whispered.  She brushed the tears off of Peter’s cheeks for him, kissing the spots on his cheeks a couple seconds later, as though she was scaring the tears away with her lips.  “It’s okay.  It’s okay.  And you can talk to me, you know that, right?”

Peter didn’t respond at first.  He looked into MJ’s eyes for a long second, trying to find anything that could have suggested she was lying.  It wasn’t just that.  He was looking for an excuse to keep her in the dark, to keep himself from stirring up the past because all he really wanted to do was forget.  Not forget.  After all, forgetting would require losing Uncle Ben in a way that Peter didn’t want.  What Peter really wanted to do was grieve in a healthy way and move forward.  That wasn’t an impossibility.  If Peter taught himself how to deal with the heaviness of losing someone the way that Peter lost Uncle Ben then it would be okay.  And suppressing his pain wasn’t the way to do it.  Plus, it was Michelle.  Not some stranger Peter barely knew, which was no offense to Dr. Strange.  Peter could _trust_ MJ.

He wasn’t looking at MJ anymore, eyes diverted to his desk.  “I watched him die…” Peter whispered. Saying the words out loud wasn’t exactly like lifting a weight off of his shoulders, but at the very least, it felt like the weight was slackening a bit, as though MJ was reaching over and offering to help him.  “I was in seventh grade and I watched the closest person I had at the time to a father die.”  He wasn’t just saying the words out loud.  He was feeling it too, letting himself process that it was an event that happened in his life and it wasn’t one that he could change. 

“Only tell me if you want,” MJ reminded him.

He wanted to.  “May and I got in a fight and I left, ran out.  Ben went to find me, only I didn’t… I was just so mad that I wasn’t listening to reason.”  It wasn’t worth blaming himself anymore, wallowing in pity and agony because that wasn’t going to bring Uncle Ben back.  “It was dark.  I was in a shady part of town.  There was a mugger and he, uh, he pulled a gun on the two of us.  I don’t remember why the mugger shot Ben, but I think one of us may have moved.  Doesn’t matter, I guess.  Ben died a few minutes later.”

 _You can’t leave me.  Don’t leave me_.  Peter remembered begging, sobbing, clinging onto Uncle Ben as his last breaths were extinguished.

“After the police showed up, I’m pretty sure I went into shock.” Peter said.  The quilts draped onto his bed felt exactly like the wool blanket the EMTs who arrived at the scene of the crime first had thrown around his shoulders.  “The police officer who was in our apartment today, Officer Trevor, he was one of the guys working that street that night.  First responder.  His partner, Officer O’Connor I think, took point in interviewing the other witnesses and… I’m not really sure what Officer O’Connor did.  But Trevor, he never left my side.  I figured it was because he had kids of his own that made him sympathize with me, care for me more than the others.  It took almost an hour for me to finally pull myself together enough to give Officer Trevor May’s number.”

Remembering the expression that May had, a look of disbelief and anguish was enough to make Peter choke on a sob again.  “I never wanted to hurt her,” Peter whispered.  “But I felt like I was responsible for what happened.  I kept thinking there was something I had done that made that guy pull the trigger on Ben.  When Officer Trevor took my statement, I pretty sure I told him that.”  The sharp gasp that quickly devolved into a horrible wail of pain from May rung in Peter’s ears.  Trevor put an arm around May, rubbing her back and shaking his head.

 _It isn’t your fault, son.  It’s Survivor’s Guilt._ Trevor kept going on about that, promising that Peter wasn’t thinking rationally after going through such a traumatic experience.  “Did you ever find Ben’s…”  MJ hesitated for a second, and Peter could see the tentative expression written across her face.  She didn’t stop, however.  “Did you ever find the mugger?”

What felt like a long minute passed before Peter had the courage to answer.  “Yeah.  I gave the officers some sketches and fortunately a camera across the street in some business got a blurry profile picture of the guy.  Really, it was all luck.  His image was pasted around the police station for a bit but the mugger hung low for a bit.  Anyone who killed someone would do it.”  The face of the mugger was still engrained in Peter’s head.  This gaunt, angry face with a mess of greasy blonde hair that swept across his forehead and salt-and-peppered stubble around his chin.  His eyes, nothing but menacing slits with brown pupils, stared daggers into Peter’s eyes.  But the expression the man had when he shot Uncle Ben, wide, aghast eyes clearly indicated that murdering someone wasn’t part of the plan.  “Officer Trevor followed a few blind leads but he was pretty sure that the case had gone cold.”

“Only, it didn’t?” MJ offered.

Peter nodded.  “A couple weeks before eighth grade started, Aunt May got a call from Officer Trevor.  Some squatter was arrested for possession in a vacation home upstate.  When he got processed into the system, one of the working officers recognized his face from some of the sketches.  They got the guy.”  After saying those words out loud, Peter was hit with a mix of emotions.  He wasn’t sure if it was relief or sadness.  It surely wasn’t satisfaction that the man responsible for killing Uncle Ben was finally going to be punished or, in other words, brought to justice.  “Because I was the key witness in the murder, I spent a lot of time at the police station.  Giving statements, working with lawyers.”

 _You need to be strong, Peter.  You have to do this for Ben.  Can you do that for me?_ May thought this was the best way to coax Peter right before he had to identify the killer in a line up.  Even while standing behind the one-way mirror with every guarantee that the suspects on the other side, all look-a-likes to the man that killed Uncle Ben, wouldn’t be able to see Peter’s face.  He was safe being beside Officer Trevor, but he was still haunted. 

“He was sentenced to life,” Peter finally said with a heavy sigh.  “May kept saying that the man who killed Uncle Ben was finally behind bars and we could be at peace.”

“But you’re not,” MJ said.

Peter shook his head.  His bottom lip quivered slightly and he stifled a cry.  “I was the person who killed Uncle Ben.  We were in that part of town _because_ of me.  If I hadn’t…”  Peter stopped himself again because he wasn’t ready to face the truth.  Really face it.  Say it aloud and mean what he was saying.  “If I hadn’t gotten in that fight with May then Uncle Ben would still be alive.”

MJ’s face was pensive, lost in thought as she took in Peter’s appearance.  She gripped the sides of Peter’s face, pulling him so close that their lips were practically touching; he could smell the lingering scent of her perfume.  “Listen to me, Peter.  You can’t do this to yourself anymore.  You’ve spent years thinking that you’re the reason your uncle is dead, but you’re not.  The reason Uncle Ben is dead is because someone _chose_ to shoot him and that isn’t on you.  I never met your uncle, but he loved you.  He _cared_ about you enough to go looking for you.  He _loved_ you and he wouldn’t want you to be pain.  And before you even think about telling me that I don’t know what you’re feeling, I do.  My mom died when I was kid, too, and I know she wouldn’t me getting all caught up in the past.  Uncle Ben died and you lived.  You can’t change that.”

Peter took a heavy breath, forcing himself to gather his bearings.  He had to listen to MJ.  He _had_ to because she was telling him the truth.  Ben loved Peter, gave him everything he’d ever wanted.  Love and compassion and empathy.  Spoiled Peter on occasion but kept him humble at heart.  Uncle Ben gave Peter a great life, and Peter shouldn’t squash it.

“It’s not your fault that Uncle Ben came looking for you.  It’s not your fault that he was killed.  And it’s not your fault that you lived,” MJ said.

Peter searched hard for a way to keep himself trapped in the reality of Ben’s death that he had grown to appreciate over the past few years but he couldn’t find any lie in what MJ was saying.  He _knew_ she wasn’t wrong.  _He_ lived.  He was alive and well, and this was a life worth living.  He wasn’t by any means coming to terms with Ben’s death, because that would still take time.  This was just the first step, a _huge_ step, that would point Peter in the right direction.

“Okay?” MJ finally said, nodding a couple of times.

“Okay,” Peter whispered.  He slumped back into his pillow, yawning.  He could feel the little energy he had left draining away.  “Are you tired?”

MJ nodded.  “I’ve been up for too long.  Do you have a—”

Peter didn’t let her finish.  He was already shifting over in his bed.  It was a big step for the two of them, but it wasn’t like they’d be doing anything, and knowing that she was close to him, that someone who cared about him was near, was enough.  MJ looked down at Peter, and he could see the hesitation in her eyes.  Immediately, Peter was nervous that he had overstepped his boundaries but MJ moved toward the empty spot in his bed.  She pulled off her jean jacket and sneakers, leaving her in a t-shirt, leggings and mismatched socks.  “Are you sure about this?” MJ asked as she slinked into the spot beside Peter.

“Yeah,” Peter said.  The two of them lied side by to side, eyes meeting.  “Thanks.”

She smiled, leaning forward to kiss his forehead.  “I’m here for you.  We all are.”  She pulled herself closer to Peter, leaning her head against his shoulder.  MJ fell asleep fast, but it still took Peter some time.  He was still waiting for his heart to settle, but with MJ leaning against his shoulder, feeling her close by, Peter felt like he could finally start to breathe easy.

When Peter woke up, he was impressed with how well-rested he felt.  Peter rolled over his bed.  His head felt clear, albeit a little groggy from getting such a decent amount of sleep that Peter wasn’t expecting.  The spot in Peter’s bed where MJ was lying last night was empty, and it was a little disconcerting to see that she wasn’t lying beside him.  Peter rolled around, yawning a bit to find that instead of lying next to him, she was pacing back and forth in the corner of Peter’s bedroom.  A phone was pressed to her ear.

“I told you why,” MJ hissed in a low voice.  “It’s just — don’t say that about him!”  Peter wasn’t sure who she was talking to, but judging by the sound of her voice, she was obviously upset about something.  Very upset.  “You have no idea what’s going on!  You have no idea what he’s _been_ through.  It was one night.  Every other night, every single hour I do what you want.  Can’t you just let me—…”  MJ stopped herself again to listen to whatever the person on the other end of the call said.  Maybe it was a threat or a serious punishment, but it scared MJ; her face drained of color.  “You wouldn’t do that.”  She didn’t sound convinced.  “I… Fine.  Okay, yes.  I’ll do whatever you want,” she said, frantic, rushing through her words.  “Just please don’t.  I’ll be home soon.  I promise.”  She hung up her phone and slid it back into her pocket.

At first, Peter thought MJ was going to turn to him and realize that he was awake but she never did.  She settled back into her spot, back pressed against his wall.  Her face was pensive, as though she was having a mental argument with herself.  Then, Peter watched as she balled her hands up and sunk her head into her knees.  A few seconds later, and she started to sob quietly.  It was nothing like the way Peter was crying before, terrible, ugly sobs.  But this looked so much worse.  Like she was fighting to keep herself from really letting all of her emotions pour out, maybe for his sake and that made him feel all the worse.  He had no idea what MJ was feeling.  He was too caught up with his own issues to think about what she was going through.

“Michelle?” Peter whispered.  He couldn’t even remember the last time Peter had called her by her real name, the nickname she had told her friends engrained in his everyday vocabulary.  Peter tried to get himself up, ignoring the dizzy feeling he had as he leaned up against his pillows.  “Are you okay?”

MJ jumped slightly when he spoke.  “Oh,” she said, sniffling.  She wiped a few tears away and went to stand beside Peter.  “Sorry.  Did I wake you up?”

Peter shook his head.  “No.  No, I just kind of woke up.”  He looked at her red eyes and tear-streaked cheeks.  “I’m sorry…” he whispered.  _I’m sorry_ didn’t exactly convey what Peter was trying to express, but there was nothing else he could say.  “I’m sorry.  I didn’t even think about what this might be—…”

“It’s not you,” she interrupted.  MJ reached forward to brush some of his hair out of his eyes.  That just made Peter feel terrible, too.  Egotistical for thinking that everyone else was upset because of him.  “It’s just stuff at home.”

“You want to talk about it?” Peter offered.  MJ let out a light chuckle.  “What’s so funny?”

“I figured I should be the one asking you if you want to talk about it,” MJ said.  She shrugged.  “My dad wants me to go home.”

“And?”

“And I want to stay with you,” MJ explained.  “But my dad is pretty convincing so I think I’m going to have to take off.”

Peter thought he was going to be crushed, suddenly afraid of being alone, but he wasn’t.  He knew she’d come back.  And he knew that May and Tony were probably right outside the door, waiting to see if Peter needed anything.  _He wasn’t alone,_ and he shouldn’t be afraid of being alone.

“I’ll come back,” MJ promised, leaning forward to kiss him.  “Whenever my dad lets me, of course.  Are you going to be okay without me?”

Peter nodded.  “Yeah.  I think I will.”  

But Peter doesn’t just think it.  He knows it.

* * *

“How do I look?” Peter asked.  He stepped out of his bedroom, spinning around in the tux.  Getting so dressed up felt unnatural, almost to the point of Peter feeling silly, but he wasn’t going to let that stop him from having a good night.  Midtown was having their annual Winter Ball, though this dance was held surprisingly late, right at the beginning of February.  When MJ approached Peter about going to the dance together, he had to admit he wasn’t expecting an invitation.  She wasn’t exactly the kind of person who seemed into that sort of stuff.  He knew she wanted to go, though, and Peter wanted to make her happy.  She deserved that after putting up with him, picking up the pieces _for him_.   

A few weeks had passed since the incident, and in that short span of time, Peter had learned more things about himself and has come to grow more than he expected.  He hadn’t found complete peace and closure with Ben’s death and with what happened with Adrian Toomes.  But he knew he was getting there. Dr. Strange helped.  And Tony and May.  Dr. Strange and May were there to pick Peter up from a nightmare, talk him through the various memories Peter was struggling to understand.  Tony helped Peter in ways he didn’t expect: when Peter first put the Iron-Spider suit on again to do simple rounds through the busy New York streets, Tony stayed to monitor Peter.  At first, Iron-Man made visits.  Observed fights (and helped if necessary).  Offered advice.  Peter’s mentor would continue to come on rounds until Peter was sure that he didn’t need any extra help.  It wasn’t babysitting.  Just support.

MJ was helping in different ways than May, Tony and Dr. Strange.  She stood with Peter during all of school, keeping the unwanted gossip away from him.  He knew that she found his trauma daunting, a challenge that was sometimes overwhelming, but MJ never once let it bother her.  She was strong, fearless, there for him when he needed her.  And Peter needed MJ a lot.  She helped pull him back to the surface, kept him grounded.  After everything she did, Peter at least deserved to muster up his fear of dances and go with her.  He promised himself it wouldn’t be like homecoming again (it helped that there was no Vulture coming to swoop down and ruin his day).

“You look _great!”_ May exclaimed.  She got up from the kitchen chair, Tony following behind her as they examined and straightened out Peter’s suit.  “And you even learned how to tie a tie by yourself.”

“All because of me,” Tony said, proudly.

“Thank you,” Peter said to Tony for what may have been the millionth time.  “I really appreciate it.”

Peter and Tony went suit-shopping the weekend before the dance, which was good since buying ( _expensive)_ formal wear wasn’t exactly something Peter did all that often.  May had given Peter a budget but because he was shopping with Tony that budget was thrown out the window.  “It’s a gift, Peter.  How many times do I need to say that?” Tony kept saying as he forced Peter to peruse through the expensive, designer-name suits.  Despite Peter holding up the wad of cash May had given him, Tony ignored Peter and they eventually settled on this three-piece, double-breasted suit.  To match MJ’s dress, they found this pastel, pale pink vest and matching tie with the small, intricate detailing.  Peter had to admit that he was worried about finding a vest and tie that matched her dress, especially since the colors she gave him were so obscure.  On top of that, Tony had gotten some kind of silk white dress shirt and new pairs of black wingtip oxfords.  When they went up to the register and Peter watched as Tony handed the cashier his credit card, Peter reminded himself again that Tony was family.  He cared about Peter, did generous things for Peter and didn’t expect anything in return.  And that was okay.

It _was_ okay, and Peter didn’t need to remind himself of that.

“Have to make sure you impress MJ.  Wouldn’t want you losing her,” Tony said, grinning.  Considering that MJ was practically glued to Peter’s hip and Tony was always around the apartment, especially recently, the two of them have really started to bond, which was surprising.  What MJ valued and what Tony valued didn’t always seem to align, and some of the things Tony got himself caught up with, left MJ with mixed feelings about him.  That being said, the fact that these two people could put aside their differences for Peter’s sake was yet another remainder of how much they loved Peter. 

“When are you supposed to meet MJ?” May asked; she had her camera in one hand and the white and silver corsage in the other. 

“We’re supposed to pick up MJ and go over to Abraham’s by 5:30,” Peter said.  He glanced at the clock.  It was 5:00.  “We should probably get going so we’re not late.”

“We’ll be able to take pictures there, right?” May asked.

Peter groaned.  “Yes, May.  You know I don’t like taking pictures.”

“This is what parents are for.  Come on.  When you’re older, you’re going to want these pictures to look at,” May said, gathering up her things.  “Tony, are you driving with us or separate?”

“I’ll come with you guys,” Tony said, “but we’ll probably have to take your CRV.  I brought a two-seater with me.”

May rolled her eyes as she led Tony and Peter out into the parking garage.  She threw the car into drive and was hurrying over to MJ’s house.  With the music playing softly and Tony and May sitting in peaceful silence, the only thing to occupy Peter’s time was thoughts.  Going to the dance was daunting for Peter.  A crowded place.  Unknown circumstances.  Sophomore year’s homecoming was the first dance Peter had gone to, and it wasn’t the best example of how high school dances go.  Peter was overwhelmed at homecoming for different reasons.  Peter hasn’t gone out much since what happened with Flash (and loud noises with drunk people everywhere didn’t seem like the best place to integrate into society).  But Peter wasn’t going to let his head get the better of him.  He would be with MJ and Ned.  He would be _okay._

May pulled up at MJ’s house.  “We’ll wait here,” she said.

“Alright,” Peter said.  He stepped out of the CRV and hurried to her front, shivering at the cold.  He knocked a couple of times before the door was thrust open.  “Hey Kevin!” Peter exclaimed.  Now that they’ve been dating for a few months, Kevin and Peter have gotten pretty close.  Sometimes if MJ’s dad is at work and they can’t find a sitter, MJ would bring Kevin over to Peter’s apartment and they would hang out.  It was weird.  They never really spent time at MJ’s house.  “Where’s your sister?”

“She’s coming.  She has to put her earrings in,” Kevin said.  “Michelle!  Michelle, Pierson is here!”

Peter rolled his eyes, laughing lightly.  “I’m almost here!” MJ said.

Peter heard the sound of heels and then she rounded the corner.  He drew in a sharp gasp of breath as he got a good look at her.  She looked beautiful.  She wore this collared, short-sleeve organdy dress.  It was Turkish blue and covered with green-stemmed, white and pink beaded flowers.  Though she wore her hair down and in its natural curly state, she braided the front parts of her hair to keep it out of her eyes.  Her makeup was light, clean, accentuating her eyes and lips. 

“What do you think?” MJ asked.

“Um,” was all Peter could say.

“That’s good,” MJ said, laughing.  “Okay, Kevin.  I left food in the fridge for you.  You just need to—”

“What if I want to come?!” Kevin exclaimed.  “I want to see your friends!”

MJ frowned.  “I know.  It’s just, dad won’t be able to pick you.”  Just the disappointed look on Kevin’s face was enough to tug on Peter’s heart.  Since the holiday party, Peter has only seen Mr. Jones one other time, and that was just briefly when Peter was walking MJ home after dinner.  Mr. Jones was in construction management, but — now Peter admittedly didn’t know a lot about this job — apparently it took up lots of his time.  Whenever Mr. Jones did have downtime, he was normally relaxing or was going away for the weekend. 

“May can probably drop him back off,” Peter said.

“Oh!  Yeah!  Can we do that?” Kevin exclaimed.

MJ frowned.  “I don’t want to be a burden.”

“You’re not,” Peter said, quickly.  “Really.  I’m sure May won’t mind.”

“ _Please_ MJ?” Kevin begged.

MJ sighed.  “Okay.  Yes.  Only if May and Tony are okay with it.”  They were, not surprising to Peter.  When MJ and Peter showed up with Kevin, the two adults were more than willing to drive Kevin back home.  “Are you sure it’s not too much trouble?”

“You’ve done plenty for Peter so it’s our turn now,” May said, smiling and that was the end of that conversation.

Thankfully, Abraham’s house was just five minutes away and it didn’t require May driving through bad traffic.  They got there with plenty time for pictures.  Peter and MJ weren’t in a huge group, just a few friends and their dates from the Decathlon Team.  Ned was already there waiting; he was taking Sally from economics.  When Peter and MJ showed up, it was like the entire room lit up with happy exclaims.  May and Tony were going crazy, snapping pictures of Peter and MJ as she struggled to get the boutonnière on, of Peter and Ned, probably twenty of Peter and MJ and some with Peter and Tony.  It was a little overwhelming, but Peter was happy.  Abraham’s dad was a professional chef so he made the entire group and their parents a family dinner that night.  When it was time to head to the dance, the kids were rounded up by the parents who volunteered to drive.  The dance was at some venue in downtown Queens.  It was a Saturday night and there was a school event so traffic was a little crazy, but the adults managed.  Peter and his friends had to rush across the street to get to the front doors of the venue. 

As Peter was ushered into the front doors, he recognized Mr. Harrington to be standing by the entrance to the ballroom, collecting tickets.  “Hey kids!  How are you guys doing?” he asked.

“Good,” MJ said, handing Mr. Harrington his tickets.

“Have fun,” he said, patting Peter on the back as their group went toward the ballroom.

One look inside and Peter came to realize why Tony and May had been so hesitant before sending him off.  The music, even if it wasn’t actually that loud, seemed like it was blaring at top volume.  Perhaps it wasn’t even very crowded, but to Peter, it felt like he was drowning in a sea of bodies.  That little part of his body was telling him that this was a bad idea, that he should just turn around now and not look back.

But then he felt MJ’s hand slip into his own, pulling him out of his own head, making him realize that he was going to be alright.  He looked at her again to take in her smile.  That _beautiful_ smile.  MJ waited until Peter gave a nod of approval and only when Peter felt ready, MJ led the two of them stepped into the ballroom.  It was overwhelming at first, the noise and chaos hitting Peter like a wrecking ball, but he stayed on his feet.  With MJ, he didn’t feel so out-of-place.  She calmly walked Peter to his small groups of friends who were gathered at the back of the venue.  Peter was surrounded with people who cared about him: Ned, swaying back and forth to the music with Sally; Isabella and Abraham; even Cindy and Gwen came over to say hello.  As he looked at their faces, the smiles, the eagerness and the enthusiasm all his friends shared, Peter felt calmer.

He _belonged_ here.  With MJ and Ned.  With the decathlon team.  He had a place among this crowd, and that made him smile.


	10. Can’t Help Falling in Love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now that Peter is starting to heal (don’t get me wrong, he still has a ways to go), MJ’s story is going to be brought into light but after putting Peter through some pretty crappy stuff, I thought it’d be nice to write a chapter of fluff and happiness :)
> 
> Also, warnings for teen drinking. Lots of teen drinking, courtesy of Flash Thompson.

_“Take my hand_

_Take my whole life, too_

_For I can’t help falling in love with you”_

_~ Elvis Presley ~_

Chapter Ten: Can’t Help Falling in Love

Considering Peter was never someone who enjoyed dancing that much, the Winter Ball was surprisingly fun.  He recognized most of the music, which was good because it made it easier to bob along to the rhythm and even sing along with the rest of his friends.  MJ didn’t seem like the kind of person who would enjoy the music that was playing so he was pleased to see that she was obviously having fun.  Laughing and smiling and nothing short of care-free.  Both of their dancing was reserved, but that was just because neither of them were extroverted enough to let loose.  MJ kept her hand laced with Peter, guiding him to the beat. Regardless of their ‘dancing’, they had fun and about forty minutes in, they were both sweaty and tired from dancing.

MJ and Peter decided it was a good time for them to take a break, so they split from their group, going toward the table of snacks and drinks.  “Are you having fun?” Peter asked once they found a spot where they didn’t need to scream just to hear each other.  He poured him and MJ two cups of water.

MJ nodded.  “Yeah.  Are you?”

Peter nodded.  “I really am.”   _Better than homecoming,_ he thought to himself.  “And thanks for making me go to this.”

“I’m your girlfriend.  It’s my job to make you go to things you don’t want to go,” MJ said, elbowing Peter in the ribs playfully.  “Are you sure you’re okay here?”  It wasn’t supposed to be a loaded question but between the two of them, and after everything that happened, it was. 

“Yeah,” Peter said, firmly, unwavering.  He smiled again, broadly, just to make sure that it was even clearer that he wasn’t trying to fool MJ.  “I’m surprised, too, I’ll admit.  Going somewhere like this… I thought that would for sure scare the shit out of me but—”

“You losers coming with us?” Flash yelled.  He was a little ways away, wearing a gray suit and a checkered dress shirt, heading toward the door of the gym.  Attached to his hip was some pretty brunette, whatever girl he hooked up with from Queens Public High School.  Gathered around Flash was Jason and his date; Gwen and Cindy with their dates; the rest of Peter’s friends were following suit.

“Where are you guys going?” Peter asked.

“My place.  After party.  You guys coming?  I’m giving you an invite,” Flash said, grinning.

Peter looked over at MJ, and her expression alone was enough for Peter to understand what she was thinking.  _If you’re okay with going, then I’m okay with going._ And that was enough permission for Peter to need.  “Uh, yeah, sure.  Let’s go,” he said, glancing at MJ with a grin on his face.  They followed their group outside, and it was refreshing to be out of the hot venue.  The air was cool, less stuffy outside.  After leaving the blaring music, standing out in the lobby and heading toward the cars seemed absolutely silent.  Some of the older students in Flash’s group had cars so they offered to give Peter and his friends a ride.  Fortunately, Gwen Stacy was driving so MJ, Peter, Ned and Sally crammed into the back of her car. 

“Are you guys having fun?” Gwen asked.

“Yeah.  Thanks for driving us,” Peter said.

“No problem.  I’m glad you guys are coming.  Honestly, half the time Flash’s friends from Queens High School comes to his party so I hardly know anyone there,” Gwen said.  If Gwen didn’t know a lot of people at Flash’s parties, how many people would Peter know? 

Gwen pulled up onto Flash’s street.  Considering that Flash’s parents were some filthy rich investors or something like that, the neighborhood in which Flash lived was upper class, and that was an understatement.  Every house on his street was at least two stories high, elegantly put together, looking like only A-List celebrities would live here.  It wasn’t hard to spot Flash’s home, though, considering the blaring music, the flashing lights and kids pouring into his home was a dead giveaway.

Just one look at Flash’s house was enough for Peter to start doubting his decision to come to this party.  What his group originally had planned was to go back to Sally’s house where they would order Chinese takeout and binge watch some horror movies.  Going to a party at the time of the dance seemed like a fun idea, especially since they were never invited to Flash’s house parties.  But right now, as Peter stared at the influx of kids that seemed to endlessly stream into the front door, Peter’s anxiety was ramping up fast.  What if Peter didn’t know anyone there?  What if all the kids started making fun of Peter?  What if the spider-senses go off and he attacks someone?  What if the police show up and he has to make a run for it so that he doesn’t get an MIP before he even has his driver’s license?  _What if?  What if?  What if?_ Peter didn’t want to let his anxiety stop him from having a good night, but he was starting to be really terrified of going inside Flash’s house.

“Peter?  You coming?” Gwen asked.  Peter’s friends were already outside of her car and were waiting for Peter to come join.

“Yeah…” Peter said.  “Sorry.  Just got distracted.” 

He closed the door behind him and followed MJ and Gwen in absolute silence.  His heart started to race so fast he thought it was going to jump out from his chest.  And when they reached the front door, it seemed as though all possibilities for Peter enjoying the party were off because inside Flash’s house was everything that Peter wasn’t ready to handle.  Lots of people, some Peter recognized, some he didn’t, were crowding into Flash’s living room and kitchen.  They were shouting over loud music that sounded thoroughly deafening.  Food and drinks were sprawled carelessly on the counter; red solo cups were thrown about the counter.  Beside the crowded place, it was hot.  Miserably hot and Peter all of a sudden felt like he couldn’t breathe.  He was getting dizzy.  The world was spinning.

After his friends all went inside, Peter tugged on MJ’s hand.  “I don’t — I don’t think I can do this.”

She looked at him, eyes unjudging, taking in his facial expression.  “Okay.  What do you want to do?  Do you want to go?”

“I don’t… you should go.  I could get a taxi,” Peter offered.

She shook her head.  “You and I are here together.”  She took his hands.  “Look, know you can beat this thing because you’re strong enough to do that.  I’m here.  I’m not leaving your side.  We don’t even have to go dance if you’d rather just stand back.  But, it’s up to you.  If you don’t want to be here, we can leave.”

Peter watched MJ, checked for any sign of lying and there wasn’t any.  And she was right.  He knew he could beat his anxiety.  He knew he was stressing himself out and if he just focused enough, he would be okay.  So, he wasn’t going to let his issues stop him living his life.  “Okay…” he whispered.  “Okay.”

He took hold of MJ’s hand and the two braved Flash’s house.  It was like getting hit with a wave of alcohol, because god, a lot of these people were drunk and empty bottles were piled up by the sink and it was just another thing to make Peter doubt himself.  But MJ was there to keep him going.  They stopped by Flash’s counter and Peter turned to look at the dance floor.  It was crowded and wild.  Abraham and Isabella were already jumping up and down.  It looked like fun.  He picked out the people he recognized, found a little quiet nook (quiet being subjective because really in a place where music was blaring as loud as it was, _real_ quiet would be altogether impossible).  He was going to be okay.

“Are you good?” MJ asked again.

Peter nodded.  “Yeah.  Yeah, I think I’ll be okay.”

Now that Peter and MJ were safely inside the house, Ned and Sally came up to their two friends.  “What’s your poison?” Sally asked.

She put a red solo cup out in front of Peter, Ned and MJ and held up a bottle of some kind of beer and another bottle of vodka.  Just one look was enough to make Peter’s stomach knot up.  He had never gotten drunk before on a variety of reasons: Peter didn’t want to be drunk when someone needed Spider-Man; he knew about Tony’s long struggle with alcoholism back when he was younger and the difficulties Tony had was enough to scare Peter straight; and being drunk can mean not being in control.  Not being in control made Peter’s anxiety level shoot up in the air.

Apparently, Peter was an open-book because even Sally noticed something was up.  “You don’t have to drink anything if you don’t want to.  We’d understand.”  

Peter smiled.  “Maybe in a little bit,” he admitted.  _Baby steps._

She shrugged and turned to glance at Ned and MJ.  “What about you two?  You guys want anything?”

“I’ll take something strong,” MJ said, smiling.

“Have you done this before?” Ned asked.

She nodded.  “A few times.  I have some older friends in college so getting alcohol isn’t that hard.”

“Sweet.  Someone experienced,” Sally said, passing off the bottles to MJ.  “I have no idea what I’m doing so pick whatever you think would be best for me.”

MJ popped up the bottle of beer and split it between Sally and Ned’s cup.  With the beer bottled drained, she loosened up the vodka and poured what looked like way more than just one shot into her cup.  She held up her cup, Ned and Sally following her example.  “Bottom’s up,” she said, grinning and the three of them drank.  When they were finished with their drinks, they all let out a terrible groan as the alcohol hit their throat and judging by their facial expressions, Peter thought he made the right decision.  “How do you like it?”

“Ugh,” Ned groaned.  “What is that stuff?

MJ looked at the bottle of beer.  “Looks like cheap beer.  How does it taste?”

“Terrible,” Sally and Ned said in unison.

MJ’s only response was taking another swig of her drink before pouring herself a little bit more.  “Shit…” Peter said, watching as MJ downed whatever she just got for herself.

“You’re about to see a side of MJ you haven’t seen before,” Sally said with a laugh.

“It’s been a hard few days,” MJ admitted, “and I think I deserve a chance to let loose.  When was the last time you guys ate something?  It’s bad to drink on an empty stomach.”  She walked over to some of the snacks Flash provided.  It mostly chips and dip and some sweets.  MJ got a little plate together and as she headed toward her friends, she let out a moan.  “Wow.  When that stuff hits you, it hits you hard.”

“Are you okay?” Peter asked.

MJ let out a feigned laugh.  “Uh, totally.  Yeah.  I’m no lightweight.”

It didn’t take long for Peter to realize Michelle was not right about that.  That, or Michelle really wasn’t a lightweight but she just had so much to drink so quickly that her fast metabolism didn’t help out.  An hour after they showed up, MJ was red-faced, laughing without hearing anything that was funny and attracting a lot of attention by how much noise she was making.

“Are you having fun?” Michelle asked as she grabbed at Peter.

Peter nodded.  He wasn’t lying to make Michelle happy, either, because he really was enjoying his time.  Even while MJ was going off the wall, lecturing some of the drunk teens about some of the books she was reading or the fascinating arguments of Immanuel Kant, Peter hung with Ned and Sally, who were only a little tipsy.  When Peter was finally comfortable with being at the party, he even let Ned convince Peter into taking a shot.  He had only drank a little bit at a party his freshman year so he had forgotten what vodka tasted like.  It burned his throat and left a terrible aftertaste.  Groaning, Peter chased it down with some soda.  “Yeah,” he said, grinning.

The song changed to _Cheap Thrills_.  Peter recognized the tune, but it was mixed with some of this godawful techno garbage that Flash was doing with his DJ set.  This kind of music wasn’t something that MJ would have admittedly listened to but she clearly enjoyed it.  “Let’s go dance!” MJ exclaimed.  She grabbed Peter’s hand and dragged him to the dance floor.  He wasn’t sure how much she had had to drink that night but judging by the way that she was wildly jumping up and down in the middle of Flash’s dance floor (really living room, though that’s beside the point), it was obvious she was _hammered_.  It was hot and crowded and some girl from Peter’s trig class was bumping up against him but MJ was having fun so Peter tried hard to have fun as well.  She was starting to get really into the music, rocking herself back and forth, hands running up down Peter’s sides.

“Are you okay?” Peter nearly had to shout in her ear to be heard.

“I’m _fantastic_ ,” she said, leaning up to give Peter a wet, sloppy kiss.  Whatever Peter had to drink was making the world blur around him a little at the edges, so much that he barely had time to register that she was spinning around rubbing herself against him provocatively.  She guided Peter’s hands onto her waist, acting as both a way to keep her from falling over and to basically get Peter to sync up with her dancing. 

“Are you thirsty?” Peter asked when the song was over.

“That shitty beer Ned and Sally had before is starting to grow on me,” MJ said.

Peter rolled his eyes.  “Why don’t we get you something to drink that _isn’t_ laced with alcohol?”  He passed her off to Gwen and Cindy, who gathered MJ up into their little circle of friends to keep her occupied.  Peter escaped off the dance floor to the kitchen counter where he rummaged through the cooler to find anything non-alcoholic.  The only beverage he had to offer was a soda.

“What are you looking for?”  Peter looked up to see Flash hovering over his shoulder.

“Getting Michelle something to drink.  Hard to find anything that isn’t beer or vodka here.”

Flash grinned.  “That’s how you throw a bitchin’ party, Parker.”  He looked over at MJ, who was swaying to the music.  “But maybe cutting her off would be best.”

“Yeah.  Don’t really want her dad thinking I’m a bad influence on her,” Peter said.

“Wow.  That some serious commitment to this relationship.  Thinking about her parents,” Flash said, rolling his eyes.  He glanced at his date, who was picking through some of the food platters on the table.  “My date?  She and I only hang out together because we hook up with each other.  _A lot._ I would never think about meeting Sasha’s parents.”

“What’s your point?” Peter asked, a tad defensive.

Flash shrugged.  “You guys really aren’t just some fling, are you?”

Peter looked over at Michelle.  The fact that she was sloppy drunk, falling over, hair flying didn’t matter.  What mattered was her smile, the way her eyes lit up when she talked to her friends.  The way she _cared_ about Peter and her younger brother and Ned and the decathlon team.  “She’s different than a lot of other girls that I’ve ever met before.  And I don’t want to screw this up.”

“Word of advice?” Flash said.

“Sure.”

“Stop being such a dork and I promise she won’t drop you for someone better,” Flash said, laughing.

Just when Peter thought he and Flash were starting to get along.  At the very least, it meant that Peter was improving so much since his episode that Flash thought it’d be appropriate and acceptable to start making fun of Peter again.  “Thanks Flash.  I really needed to hear that.”

It looked like Flash was going to say something quippy, but then Michelle came stumbling over to the two of them. “Peter.  Peter,” she whined, grabbing onto his shoulders.

He turned away from Flash.  Part of MJ’s braid was falling out and some of her mascara was smudged.  This was meant to be no offense, but she looked bad.  “One second,” Peter said, going to MJ’s side.  “What’s up?  What’s going on?”

“I need to go home,” she said with a heavy sigh.

“Oh.  Are you not feeling good?” He said.  That was kind of stupid question considering how much she had to drink that night.

She shook her head.  “My dad wants me to come home.”  She half-heartedly held up her cell phone.  “I think I’m going to call a… I think I’m gonna call a cab,” she barely managed.  She threw her arms around Peter crazily, rocking him back forth in a tight hug before trying to make her way to the door.  “I’ll see you some other time, okay?”

“Whoa, whoa,” Peter said.  He ran after you.  “Let me take you home.  Your dad is going to be pissed if you come home without me.”

She just shrugged.  It took Peter nearly pushing a very hammered Jason Ionello blocking Flash’s door because Jason was supposed to be a ‘meter’ for the two of them to get outside.  Considering that Flash lived in a nice part of town, Peter was surprised to see that none of the neighbors have called the cops ( _yet);_ it didn’t help that he could hear the thumping music all the way from outside.  Fortunately, most of the party was kept inside so the only kids outside were the ones trying to get to their cars or waiting for a cab to come pick them up.  They stood out in Flash’s driveway while Peter took out his cell phone to order an Uber.  MJ let out a violent, albeit probably over-dramatic shiver, which prompted Peter to peel off his jacket and throw it around her shoulders.

“Are you guys about to head out?”  It was Betty Brant coming up from behind them.

“Yeah,” Peter said.  He glanced at MJ.  “She needs to get home.”

Betty took in MJ’s disheveled appearance with an amused look.  “I’m about to head home, too.  I can give you guys a ride.  And, don’t worry.  I haven’t been drinking anything tonight.”

“That’d be great,” Peter said.

“Oh, Betty.  You’re so sweet!” MJ exclaimed.  She took a few clumsy steps toward Betty, yanking the girl into a bear hug.  Considering Betty was popular and has probably had her fair share of encounters with drunk people, Betty didn’t look too surprised.  She hugged MJ back, grinning.  “Are you sure you don’t mind?  I don’t want—…” She stopped herself, glancing at Peter before leaning in to whisper at Betty, “I don’t want Peter to be a burden to you.”

Betty just laughed.  “I promise Peter won’t be a burden to me.”

“Okay good,” MJ said.

Peter guided MJ toward Betty’s car, this sleek looking black car that only someone as rich as her dad would be able to afford.  Peter pulled the door open for MJ, helped her inside and then got her all buckled up.  Whatever the alcohol was doing to her, she was clearly getting past the over-exuberant, energized drunk phase and was now going into the more mellow, sobering up stage.  She was still out of it judging by the way that she woozily swayed around in the back of Betty’s car.  She let out a soft moan as she pressed her hands against her head, leaning against the window.  Peter reached over to put his arms around her.  The gesture was enough of an invitation for MJ to practically throw herself into Peter.  She pressed her head against his chest, wiggling around a little bit until she found a more comfortable place to sit.  Betty kept the music down, which was good because it was obvious that MJ’s head was starting to hurt.

“You don’t think she’s going to throw up?” Peter asked, nervously.

Betty shrugged.  “Maybe.  How much did she have to drink?”

“I’m not sure.  I wasn’t really keeping tabs on it the whole night,” Peter muttered, internally cursing himself for not taking better care of her.  “Maybe five or six shots.  Possibly more.  She had a red solo cup.”

“Wow,” Betty said.  “I’m impressed she hasn’t passed out yet.”  That _really_ didn’t sound good, and Peter was pretty sure his nervous reaction was noticeable because Betty quickly added, “If you’re that worried about it, you could stay with her for another hour.  She might throw up, but that’s normal.  It’s not alcohol poisoning by any means if that’s what you’re worried about it.”

Alcohol poisoning hadn’t even crossed his mind until now and he was really kicking himself for not paying attention to her.  “And how much… well, have you ever gotten this drunk before?”

“Yeah.  A couple of times, and I had plenty more than Michelle before,” Betty admitted.  “She’s tough.  I doubt a few shots are gonna be enough to hurt her.”

“Yeah…” MJ murmured.  “I’m tough.”

Peter chuckled, running his fingers through her hair.  “I know you are.  Do you have any water?  Or anything to drink another than vodka?”

Betty laughed again.  She rummaged one of the compartments in her car before pulling out an eight-ounce water bottle.  She handed it to Peter.  “I always bring a bottle of water when I know I’m going to a party.  I cannot begin to tell you how many times I’ve driven home some drunk, dehydrated person.  If she’s hungry, I have a granola bar too.  And plastic bags in case she throws.  Please, _please_ don’t let her throw up on the seats.  My dad will kill me.”

“Thanks again.  And I’ll make sure she doesn’t throw up in your car,” Peter said.  He unscrewed the water bottle and lifted MJ’s head up.  “Can you drink a little bit for me?”

She frowned.  “Fine.  But only for you.”  She took a swig of water, somehow managing to screw the cap on successfully before letting out an obnoxious yawn.  “I’m tired.”

“I know,” Peter said.  “Don’t worry.  We’re almost home.”

When Betty finally pulled up at MJ’s house, it was a real sigh of relief for everyone.  MJ wasn’t at the stage of throwing up by any means, but she was pretty woozy and out of it, so it was best just to get her to bed.  Peter thanked Betty about a hundred times as he eased her out of Betty’s car without any difficulty.  MJ protested against Peter carrying him inside so instead he kept a firm hold on her — basically carrying her up to the front step.  Whenever they went on dates, Peter normally wasn’t invited inside so he waited at the front door for MJ to say anything.

She glanced at him, back at the empty driveway and then said, “I — I don’t think my dad’s home.”

“Oh, so—”

“So, I think it’s safe for you to come inside,” MJ said.  _Safe_.  Why safe?

Going behind her father’s back really wasn’t the best way to make a good impression on the man (Peter really wanted MJ’s family to like him) but considering how drunk MJ was and the fact that he wasn’t sure she would be able to take care of herself in this state, Peter went against his better judgement.  She swung the front door open, not bothering to turn the light on in the front entryway, this small little hallway with a basket on the side for shoes and connecting doorways to the living room, kitchen and then the stairs.  There were no lights on so she grabbed hold of Peter’s hand and blindly began making her way to the second floor.  Peter moved ahead of MJ.  He turned on his phone flashlight to lead her safely up the stairs.

“Where to?” he asked.

She yawned.  “Bathroom.  I want to — I want to get this makeup off.  Freshen up a bit.” 

She made a weak gesture toward a door just barely down the hall.  Taking her cue, Peter gathered her up and headed toward her bathroom.  It was about the same size of Peter’s and May’s, only more put together with less stuff thrown around the granite counter.  She jerked open one of the cabinets and began rummaging through the contents.  Whatever she was knocking over was making quite of bit of noise and before Peter could say anything, there was a small tap on the bathroom door.  MJ looked up, eyes wide. 

“Dad?” She slurred.

“Kevin,” her little brother said.

“Shit,” MJ muttered.  She got up, but only barely.  “K — Kevin?”

“I’ll take care of it,” Peter said.  He got MJ to settle back onto the counter before Peter went to open the door.  Kevin, dressed in _Star Wars_ pajamas, holding up a small blue blanket, was staring up at Peter.  Peter closed the door behind him.  “Hey buddy.”

“Where’s Michelle?” he yawned.

“She’s not feeling all that great,” Peter admitted.  “Why don’t you just go to bed?  I’ll take care of her.”

Kevin looked pretty skeptical.  “Are you sure you can take care of her?”

Peter smiled.  “I’m sure.  She’ll be as good as new by tomorrow.”  _Hopefully._ “Why don’t you just go to bed?  What time is your dad going to be home?”

Kevin shrugged.  “He doesn’t always come home.”

That struck Peter as odd.  “Oh.  Okay.  Well, MJ has my number so if you need anything just give me a call.  Alright?” 

Kevin yawned again.  “Okay.  I’m going to bed.  Is she going to be okay?”

“Yeah.  It’s just an upset stomach,” Peter said.  “Good night, Kevin.”

Kevin gave a half-hearted smile before sluggishly going toward his bedroom door, which he closed shut.  With Kevin out of the way, Peter went back into the bathroom to find that MJ had proceeded to take nearly everything out from under her sink.  Bottles of lotion, hairspray, toothpaste, deodorant and tons more were thrown onto the counter, and she was still going.  Now she was rummaging through the drawers.  “What are you doing?” Peter said.  He grabbed hold of MJ’s wrists and lightly pulled her away from her cabinet.  “What are you looking for?”

She looked lost.  “I’m… not sure.”  She stared at Peter before finally saying, “Oh!  Makeup remover wipes!  I — this gunk on my face is starting to burn.”

Peter laughed.  “Okay.  What do they look like?”

“They’re blue and they say _Neutrogena_ on them,” MJ said.

Her makeup wipes weren’t that hard to find considering it was sitting beside her toothbrush.  Sighing, Peter pulled out a clean wipe and handed it to MJ.  After watching her lazily dab at her cheeks, Peter took the wipe from her and began to gently wipe her face clean of makeup.  When he thought her face was clean (Peter really wasn’t sure considering he’s never done anything like this), Peter hurried to pull out the rest of her braids, combing his fingers through her hair.  Then, she pointed him toward her toothbrush.  After she brushed her teeth, Peter convinced her to wash her mouth out with mouthwash to help get rid of the taste and scent of vodka.  While she brushed her teeth, Peter attempted to put the contents of her sink back in its place until her bathroom looked to be in decent condition.

“You want to go to bed?” Peter asked.

She nodded.  “I want to get out of this dress.”

MJ took Peter’s hand into hers and she led him down the hall to her bedroom.  He’d never been in her room before, one her dad’s many rules that she wasn’t willing to break so right now he felt like he was intruding a bit when he walked inside.  Her room was simple enough but still unique, still _Michelle Jones_.  A twin-sized bed was pushed up into a corner with nothing but white sheets and piles of pillows.  Peter recognized some of her artwork hanging up on the walls, over her desk and vanity.  Pictures of her brother, the team, her and Peter were hung up right above her desk.  Lining her ceiling were small twinkle lights in the shape of little diamonds.  She managed to plug in those little lights before stumbling her way over to her bed, tripping a little bit before collapsing.  She looked like she was ready for sleep but then she turned to Peter, pouting.  “Why did we have to leave the dance so early?”

“The dance or the party?”

“The dance.  Parties are lame.”

“Because Flash invited us to this party and I thought we agreed it would be fun,” Peter said.  “Why?  Did you want to stay at the dance?”

MJ didn’t answer.  She looked away, her cheeks flushing even redder.  “No.  I guess it was okay.  You wanted to leave and I wanted to do something that would make you happy.  You deserve to be happy after everything you’ve gone through.”

Peter chuckled, half-rolling his eyes, half-heart melting in response.  “And I appreciate that,” he said.  He leaned forward to kiss her.  It was light and brief and gentle, especially since her breath was still mixed in with the lingering taste of vodka.  “But you didn’t want to leave, did you?”

MJ frowned.  “We should dance.”

Peter raised his eyebrows.  “All you did tonight was dance.”  She didn’t look happy about so Peter quickly added, “If you wanted to keep dancing, we can do that here.  After you sober up a bit.”

She laughed, one of those loud, boisterous echoey laughs.  “I swear I’m fine,” she said shrugging. 

“Whatever.  But seriously, why are you upset?”

MJ shrugged.  “I didn’t get to slow dance at homecoming so I wanted to do it now.”  Apparently, alcohol really brought out all her feelings because the Michelle Jones rarely wore her out on her sleeve and judging by her face, she really was disappointed.

“Oh,” Peter said, because that wasn’t what he expected.  “ _Oh.”_

“It’s — it’s really not a big deal,” MJ said.  She reached for the back of her heels, peeling the strap off of her heel and yanking her shoes off.

“Are you sure?” Peter said.

“What do you mean?”

“If you want to dance, we… we can,” Peter said.

She shrugged.  “I already took my shoes off, and my hair looks like this, and I’m not wearing any makeup,” MJ stammered.

Peter laughed.  “Come on.  You look beautiful.”  He held out his hands.  “If you want to dance, this is going to be your last chance to do it.”

MJ looked up at Peter, her brown, wide eyes suddenly very excited.  “Yeah okay!” She squealed.  MJ scrambled to get to her feet, stumbling a little bit as she kicked her heels to the side of her room.  “What kind of song do you want?  I don’t — I’m not sure if the music I listen to you is something you would enjoy.”

“Whatever you want,” Peter said.  “This is for you.”

She smiled as she reached for her cell phone, pulled up YouTube and started typing something into the search bar.  A couple seconds later the sound of a rhythmic, melodic ballad filled the air.  It took Peter no more than a couple of seconds to recognize the song.  _Can’t Help Falling in Love._ It was an old song, one of May’s favorites from years ago.  With the music on, a soft quiet hum in the background, Peter put his hands around MJ’s waist and she lazily draped hers around his neck.  May had taught Peter a little bit about slow-dancing.  The right way to hold her, the right speed.  How to lead in the dance.  Where to look, but all those tips were thrown off the table the minute MJ dared to pull Peter closer, so close that their chests were touching.  Peter thought his brain was going to fall through to his stomach as he tried hard to look at her face and only her face.

“Do you recognize the song?” she asked with a giggle.

Peter nodded.  “Come on.  Who wouldn’t recognize Elvis Presley?  This song’s a classic.”

She smiled.  “It’s one of my favorites.”

“Really?  A slow jam like this?”

“It’s _Elvis_ ,” she said.

“ _Wise men say only fools rush in,”_ the song went, and Peter could hear MJ barely managing to keep up with the song, slurring the words together in a string of nearly incoherent syllables.  They swayed back and forth slowly, MJ leaning even closer to put her head against Peter’s shoulder.  He was still wearing his tux, and the shoulder pads were thick and restrictive and made the heat between the two of them feel all the more intense.  She leaned to kiss Peter’s neck, fast and fleeting and then when Peter didn’t pull away from her, MJ attacked his neck again.  Ran her lips over and around his skin.  She pushed his hands past her waist and for just a split second, Peter lets his hands stay there.  Only briefly, Peter’s head was clouded with arousal and desire and want.  It felt _so_ good and Peter didn’t want any of this to stop, but he also knew it was wrong to let this continue either.  It didn’t matter that she was the one initiating contact because, _god_ , she was so drunk and he was sober and he wasn’t about to take advantage of her.

Peter was stronger than MJ so he managed to pull his hands up to her waist without any problem.  “Alcohol turns you into an animal, doesn’t it?” Peter said, laughing.

“Is a teenage boy turning a drunk girl down?” MJ said.  

Peter frowned.  “You have no faith in men, do you?”

“No.  I have plenty of faith in _men_ , but boys are different,” MJ said, and Peter rolled his eyes.  She let out another throaty laugh.  “Thank you for coming with me.  And for taking me back home…  And for not telling my baby brother that I was _suuuuuper_ drunk.  I don’t want him to have a bad opinion of me.  And I don’t want you to have a bad opinion of me, either.”

“After everything you’ve done for me, I’d never have a low opinion of you,” Peter said.  And it was true.  He leaned forward to kiss her nose but before he could make contact, MJ suddenly twirled the two of them around.  She nearly hit the side of her desk.  If it hadn’t been for Peter keeping her steady, she would have woken up with a pretty nasty bruise.  “Try not to hurt yourself.  I don’t want your dad thinking you got hurt when you were with me.”

“I doubt he’d even notice,” she muttered.

“ _Take my hand.  Take my whole life, too.  For I can’t help falling in love with you_.”  The song was a little fast for a slow-dance, but the two somehow made it work, bobbing along to the echoing, always impressive voice of Elvis Presley.  Despite the fact that MJ hadn’t had anything to drink in a while, she was still unbelievably uncoordinated.  Peter kept a firm grip around her waist, keeping her steady and secure and protected in his arms.

“You know…” MJ started.  She pulled away just slightly so that she could look into his eyes.  “You’re… so hot.”

Peter couldn’t help but laugh.  “You’re going to have a massive hangover tomorrow.”

“That’s okay,” she said.  “As long as I remember tonight because it was a really, _really_ good night.”

“I’m glad.  But, let’s face it, you probably won’t remember much,” Peter said with a laugh.

She gave Peter a coy smile, flickering her lashes a little bit and Peter was legitimately worried she was going to start attacking his neck again.  Only, she didn’t.  “I love you,” she whispered, suddenly. 

Peter looked down at her, a mix of shock and confusion but nonetheless there was a mix of happiness in there as well.  They’d never said that to each other, not yet, and Peter really wanted to say it back but a part of him was still hesitant.  “That’s just the alcohol talking.”

MJ shook her head.  “Haven’t you heard that alcohol brings the truth out in some people?”

“No,” Peter said, chuckling.  “What I have heard is that alcohol impairs judgement and right now I’m pretty sure your judgement isn’t that trustworthy.”

MJ rolled her eyes.  “Hey!  According to chemistry, alcohol is a solution.”  Peter laughed again, and MJ joined in, only she was so loud Peter was legitimately concerned that she was going to scare Kevin into coming to her room.  “I’m funny, aren’t I?  I know I’m very funny.”

They kept swaying to the music, and Peter recognized this song enough to know that it was coming to the end.  “ _For I can’t help falling in love with you_.”  The word _you_ rung out for a couple seconds longer and the song ended with a gentle line of piano notes that slowly faded into silence.  With the song over, MJ suddenly tore free from Peter, yawning and glancing at the clock.  It was 2:30, half an hour past MJ’s curfew and getting dangerously close to Peter’s curfew.

Peter watched as MJ started wrestling with her dress.  Getting frustrated, she turned to look at Peter.  “Can you help me?” she said with a sigh.  She spun around, pulling her hair out of the way of the back of her dress and shoved the zipper in front of Peter.

“Uh… sure,” he said, blushing.  Peter took hold of the golden zipper, struggled with it a little bit before pulling it down just enough.  He cleared his throat.  “Do you — do you think you can take it from here?”

MJ laughed.  “Sure.  Can you hand me some clothes?  It should be under my pillow.”

“Yeah,” Peter said.  Really, he was looking for any excuse to not think about her right now.  He scrambled to lift up her pillow and sure enough, the pair of gray shorts and a long-sleeve shirt was rolled up in a ball underneath.  “Here,” he said, handing her the pajamas and making sure to pay close attention to the details on her down comforter.

“You really didn’t have to come with me,” MJ said.  “You looked like you were having fun at the party.”

Peter chuckled.  “I wanted to make sure you got here alright.”

“You didn’t have to,” she said, again.  “I’m all dressed now.”

“I know.”  Peter turned around.  MJ’s shorts were put on crookedly and one sleeve was rolled up and the other wasn’t; her dress was thrown onto the ground.  “I guess I owed you after everything you did for me a few weeks ago.”  Staying the night with Peter _that_ Wednesday.  Not being intimidated in the face of real trauma (admitting to himself that was _real_ trauma was another part of Peter’s learning curve).  “You ready for bed?” he said.  He started to untuck her sheets.

“ _Fine_ ,” she huffed.  She yanked the sheets apart when Peter was taking too long and jumped inside.  When Peter had finished adjusting the blanket so that she was comfortable, MJ looked up at Peter and said, “And for what it’s worth, I would do anything to make sure you’re okay.  And I’m sorry my dad made me come home so early.”

Peter laughed.  He laced his fingers into her own and pressed a kiss on her knuckles.  “That’s okay.  Whenever May enforces a curfew, it’s normally because she’s just looking out for me.”

MJ sighed.  “I wish I had someone who cared about me the way May cares about you?”

Peter raised his eyebrows.  This didn’t sound like something a drunk MJ would say just for the sake of saying something random.  She looked sad and very serious about what she was saying.  “What do you mean?”

“What?”

“What are you talking about?  ‘You wish you had someone like May,’” Peter repeated.

MJ stared up into Peter’s eyes for a long second and, as though she suddenly sobered up in the matter of a couple seconds, she slunk lower into her bed.  “I’m tired.  I think I want to go to bed if that’s okay.”  She smiled up at Peter, and Peter could tell she was trying to convince him she had no idea what she had just said.  Something was obviously bothering her, though, but she didn’t want to continue the conversation.  “I don’t know what time my dad will be home but I don’t think he’s going to be happy if I have guests over.”

Peter smiled.  He could take a hint.  “Okay.  Text me when you wake up tomorrow?”  He leaned forward to kiss her. 

He grabbed his jacket, threw it on and was just about to leave her bedroom when he heard a quiet, “Peter?”

He turned around.  “Yeah?”

“I love you,” she said.  The jovial, drunken tone MJ had the first time she said _that_ was gone.  She was still timid, barely speaking loud enough for Peter to hear what she was saying.  But she sounded serious.

Peter smiled.  “I love you, too.  I’ll see you tomorrow.”

* * *

The next day, Peter slept in until noon.  He probably got home from MJ’s at 3:00 or 3:30.  Going to bed late coupled with the fact that Peter was honestly exhausted from all the dancing at the actual Winter Ball, Flash’s house and then eventually at MJ’s house was enough to drain Peter of all the energy he had.  When he woke up, May was already gone — something about going grocery shopping — and his breakfast was sitting in a pan on the stove ready to be heated up.  With food and coffee in his system now, he got out his cell phone to see if MJ had texted him.  Peter didn’t know a thing about being hungover or how alcohol affected MJ but he was pretty confident she wasn’t feeling great.  Peter wasn’t judging MJ for drinking.  Again, she’s done so goddamn much for him these past couple of months that it shouldn’t matter what happened last night.  And, of course, her judgement and behavior wasn’t her normal self. 

That being said, Peter didn’t want to think too much into what she said about last night.  The thing about her wanting someone like May in her life.  She was just drunk, right?  Maybe she got in a fight with her dad over the fact that she had to come home so early that night.  Or the fact that her dad tried to enforce a curfew for her when he, himself, didn’t bother to be come home at all?  And that whole thing about needing to drink because she’s been having a rough few days.  What was that about?  Was school hard for her?  Peter let himself think selfishly think that perhaps he was the reason for her stress and problems, but he discarded that.  Regardless of how important he might be to her, he wasn’t the center of her universe and he has no reason to think that he was the source of all her problems.  This line of thought only led to Peter thinking that if something really was going on with her life, what if she was keeping it from Peter because she knew he was dealing with a whole lot of other crap and her problems shouldn’t be added to that? 

Now he was really getting in over his head.  _Relax Parker_.  He texted MJ quickly: _< <call me when you wake up.  Hope you’re feeling okay_>> _._ After that message was sent, Peter decided to be productive.  Get homework done.  Clean up the house a little bit (he knew if he didn’t do his chores, May would probably come home from the grocery store and be pissed at him).  A few hours later, he heard his phone.  It was Michelle.

“Hey,” Peter said when he picked up the phone.  “How are you feeling?  Did you just get up?”

MJ let out a huge yawn.  “I got up a couple hours ago but I’ve been pretty busy.  Sorry.  I just saw your text.”

Judging by the tone of her voice, Peter could tell that there was something going on with her, but he couldn’t tell if it was just because she was hungover and tired.  He decided to pursue the subject.  “Is everything alright?  You sound…”  _Drained._ Peter didn’t think she would appreciate that description.  “You sound off.”

There was a pause and then she sighed.  “No.  No, nothing’s wrong.  Just feel kind of sick.  I threw up this morning so that was great.  My brother thought I had the flu again.”

“Oh.”  She was just sick.  “Do you want to come over?”  He smiled at the thought, especially after everything that happened last night.  The dance.  The fact they said _I love you_ for the first time.  He understood they were teenagers, too young to understand real love that real adults had like Ben and May, but saying those three words still made Peter happy.  _Very_ happy.  He knew they just saw each other last night, but he missed her.  Wanted to see her.  Would be even happier if he was with her.

“Sorry,” she finally said.  “I have some stuff I have to take care of.  Lots of homework.” 

Now Peter really knew something was wrong.  Whenever they were presented with an opportunity to be with each other, they would jump on it.  And doing homework was normally how they spent their time together so if MJ was saying no, she was either feeling extremely sick or something was legitimately wrong. 

“Is everything okay?” Peter asked again.  He was being pushy and he knew it.

“Yeah,” MJ said again.  “It’s just, I kind of have an essay due in a couple of days so I really need to get some work done.”  She laughed, light-heartedly, and just the sound was enough for Peter to calm down.  “I really need to focus and I just know if I’m around, you’re going to be a little bit too much of a distraction.  You get me?”

A chill went down Peter’s spine, and he let himself indulge in the fantasy that came to his head for just a brief second.  He tried to focus again; she wasn’t in the mood to argue so Peter didn’t.  “Okay,” Peter finally said.  “Let me know if you need any help—.”  The call ended before Peter had the chance to finish his sentence.  “Alrighty then.”

Now that really wasn’t like MJ.  Distracting him by flirting.  Cutting him off before she can even finish his sentence.  Giving him some excuse about having homework when even she admitted she preferred doing homework with Peter.  She was avoiding him.  He did something wrong, or she thought he did something wrong.  Maybe MJ was ashamed to see him because of what happened last night.  When May came home and she and Peter bonded over putting the groceries away, he dished on all the details about last night (sparing some of the ones any parent-figure wouldn’t want to hear) and then explained how she was acting cold.

“You said she wasn’t feeling well last night, right?” May asked.

“Yeah.  She got a bad headache,” Peter explained.

May rolled her eyes.  “I’m sure that’s why she’s sick.  Anyway, she’s probably still not feeling good this morning.  You shouldn’t worry about it too much Peter.  And definitely don’t be blaming yourself.  I know you and your guilt complex.”  It wasn’t a chastise, and May certainly wasn’t wrong about that.

“So, it’s nothing?” Peter said.

“It’s nothing,” May repeated. 

Peter trusted May, of course, so he took her word to heart.  He didn’t think much of MJ dismissing him the way she did on Sunday.   He went to school on Monday assuming that everything would be back to normal.  Only, MJ didn’t come to school on Monday.  When Peter texted her, she gave him some excuse about her dad thinking she had a flu because she threw up all Sunday morning.  He offered to get her homework and drop it off like she did for Peter when he was sick but she turned him down.  Something about not wanting him to go out of his way for her.  When she came back to school on Tuesday, she was tired.  _Very tired._ Peter noticed something was wrong just by the way that she staggered into school, head low to the ground, hair swept into a messy ponytail.  She had a big term paper due in her AP Art Theory class and she was up doing it the entire night, so it made sense why she was tired.  MJ and Peter went to the library that day where he sat and read _Moby Dick_ to himself when she laid her jacket on his lap and slept. 

“You sure you’re alright?” Peter asked when it was time to go to English class.  He wasn’t trying to be nosy, especially since he thought he was overreacting.  _She would say something to you.  If she doesn’t want you to know, then she doesn’t want you to know._

MJ straightened out her jacket, yawning.  “Yeah.  Let’s face it: I killed that paper.”  She had a coy grin on her face, leaning forward to give Peter a kiss.  And after that kiss, he seemed to just forget about whatever they were talking about.

“You haven’t noticed anything strange about her lately?” Peter asked Ned.  They were walking back from the convenient store right before Decathlon practice because MJ asked for Peter to get her some blueberry yogurt.

“It’s not like MJ is the most normal person on the block,” Ned said with a shrug.  “If she was a font, she’d be like Wingdings.  It’s unpredictable and not always that easy to understand.”

Peter frowned.  “What does that even mean?”

“All I’m saying is that sometimes people, not just MJ, can be hard to read.  Have you ever stopped to think that maybe she really is just tired because of her paper?  And that she’s stressed because competition season is right around the corner?” Ned said. 

Ned wasn’t totally wrong about that.  “Yeah, I guess that’s true.”  Peter had second thoughts.  “You don’t think she’s hiding something from me, do you?”

Ned sighed.  “If you’re that concerned, you are this thing called _Spider-Man._ You can trust follow her.”

“I can’t do that…” Peter muttered to himself.

Peter did it, anyway.  He went all of decathlon practice thinking that he wouldn’t follow her, even though that idea was enticing to him since it would answer a lot of his questions.  It was a decent practice, too.  They already administered tests to determine who would be on the STEM team and who would be on the humanities team by mid-January.  Now that the team was divided up, Peter took the STEM kids to one corner of the gym where they could go over the lessons for the day.  He wasn’t around MJ the entire time but he went up to her after practice to see if she wanted to come over to his place.  She turned him down.  _Again_.  So, Peter put the Iron-Spider suit on that night with the intention to just survey MJ.  She was supposed to be working tonight, which meant that Peter would just big around the store to make sure she got to and from work safely. 

“This isn’t weird, is it, Karen?” Peter asked.  He was on his way to the store at which MJ had been employed since the beginning of her freshmen year.  She was working the closing shift since that was the only time she could work due to school and practice.  It also meant that she would be walking home by herself pretty late at night.

“Following your girlfriend?  No.  It’s not weird,” Karen said, innocently.

That didn’t make Peter feel any better.  “I’m just making sure that nothing is wrong with her.  I’m worried.”

“If that’s what it takes to justify your actions,” Karen said.

Peter thought it’d be best to stop asking Karen for advice. 

Peter found a comfortable position on the rooftop across the street of the convenient store.  It was a good vantage point to watch as MJ got settled at the register.  Her hair was pulled into a messy bun, a green apron on and this really fake, really broad smile as she called for the next customer to come up to the register.  She moved fast, bagged quickly, worked through her lines and whenever she got a break between customers, she drummed her fingers against the counter.  No one really likes a minimum wage job all that much, but at the very least, she looked peaceful.  Comfortable.  And the fact that Peter was spying on her made him feel pretty guilty.  Spying on her was wrong.  Getting into her business was wrong and immoral.  He should just trust that if something was going on her life, she would have told Peter.  For a split second, he really contemplated getting up and leaving.  Finding some other petty criminal to go follow because MJ wasn’t that and she deserved privacy.

But another part of him compelled him to stay.  The part of Peter that was paranoid and obsessive and terrified that something was happening to her and she was so scared that _couldn’t_ tell him.  That was an extreme.  Unlikely.  Probably embarrassing foolish for Peter to think that.  Only, he couldn’t shake this feeling, this _instinct_ that he was missing something huge in her life.  So, he stayed that night.  Watched her in silence as she finished up her shift at the grocery, walked down the dark streets to get her house and as she closed the door to her house.  He did this for a whole week.  Kept watch on her and when she was home safe, he would start his regular rounds.  His surveillance ( _stalking?_ ) of Michelle was going smoothly and the longer he watched her, the more he realized he was probably just overreacting.

“You seem to be out late all the time,” May commented one night.  “Is there anything you and Tony aren’t telling me?”

Peter shook his head.  “No.  I’ve just been going out a little later.  Trying to make sure that I get all my homework done first.”  That was always a good explanation to get May off his back.  “But, um, I’m about to turn in a bunch of big projects so tonight should be the last night I’m out late.”  And Peter was only saying that because if everything went smoothly tonight with MJ, he should probably ease up on stalking her — _watching_ her.      

The night went like it normally should: Peter put the Iron-Spider suit on, hurried to MJ’s house to arrive just in time for her to go on her walk to work.  She worked the same register, which meant Peter had needed to sit in the same spot.  She wore the same uniform, put her hair up in the same ponytail, gave customers the same look.  Peter figured that nothing would be different.  And, of course, because Peter thought nothing was out of the ordinary, everything went to shit by the time she got off work. MJ got off work a little bit later than usual — something about a huge mess made by some douche bag young adults (Peter really wanted to mess them up after seeing the way they stared at MJ while they swaggered their way through the store).  Getting off late meant it being darker and shadier when she was trying to walk home.  And, as though fate was asking for Spider-Man to make an appearance, an older woman was just about to the cross the street when she and MJ crossed paths.

Doesn’t sound so dangerous but then came a man sprinting out of the darkness, darting toward the two of them.  He grabbed the purse from the old lady, didn’t bother even sparing a glance in MJ’s direction and began racing down the alley.  “Hey!  Stop!”  MJ yelled as the robber started sprinting in the opposite direction.

The old lady let out a shriek, and Peter was ready to fling a web so fast that the robber wouldn’t know what hit him.  Only, Peter didn’t need to because suddenly a shoe went flying.  It hit the robber in the back of the head with pinpoint accuracy.  Of course, it was a shoe and it wasn’t enough to scare the robber, but MJ was impressively talented.  She was on the robber in a matter of seconds, kicking the back of his knee, getting a hold of him and throwing him into one of the dumpsters.  Peter tensed up as the robber seemed to make a move for something in his pocket — _a gun_.  It wasn’t.  MJ made a mad scramble for the purse and she got it before the robber did.  Judging by the way that the robber stared at MJ before scattering, it was obvious that he wasn’t really interested in starting a serious fight with her.  The thief rounded the corner of the alley and was gone.

“Thank you.  Thank you!”  The old lady said with a warm smile.  “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” MJ said, a little breathlessly as she slipped her sneaker back on.  “Picked up some self-defense moves from my dad.  Glad you’re okay.”

The old lady persisted on going back to the grocery store and buying MJ some doughnuts; Peter all the while watched in amazement.  It seemed like every single day MJ was coming up with something new to surprise him with.  He was peeling back more and more of her layers seemingly every time they had a conversation, but she was still this mysterious girl.  One that for sure didn’t need any help from Peter or Spider-Man or really anyone.  She was powerful and independent and intelligent and apparently _very_ badass.  He was thinking so hard about what just happened with MJ and the robber that he didn’t even notice her and the old lady parting way.  And he surely didn’t notice that MJ was standing right below him.

“Are you following me?” she asked. 

At first, Peter thought she was talking someone else.  Maybe a co-worker from work.  But it dawned on Peter that she was staring _at him_.  Eyes locked in on eyes, and there was absolutely no way to escape her.

Peter groaned.  Shit.


	11. You’re Still You

_“To be trusted_

_is a greater compliment_

_than to be loved.”_

_~ George MacDonald ~_

Chapter Eleven: You’re Still You

Peter really needed to say something.  He was on the rooftop of the building across the convenient store, gazing down at Michelle, feeling like a complete stalker.  _Are you following me?_ That implies something different than just some random passerbyer who saw Spider-Man and asked the vigilante to do some kind of back flip.  She knew what Spider-Man was doing.  He decided that’d it’d be best to just stop overthinking the situation because the longer he stays quiet, the worse the situation gets.  “Activate voice modifier… and, uh, call the police about the purse snatcher.  Make sure they get that guy,” Peter muttered under his breath. 

“Already on it, Peter,” Karen said. 

Now that he didn’t have to worry about “What do you mean?”

She let out a cold laugh.  “I mean you’ve been staked out at the top of that rooftop for the past week.”

“I’ve heard that this place has a high crime rate,” Peter said.  He dropped down to the street in front of MJ, landing on his feet swiftly.  After he straightened up, Peter didn’t dare take a step closer to MJ, worried that if he got any closer she might see through the mask and recognize him.  That was ridiculous, because there was absolutely no way anyone could so much as see Peter’s eyes but he was worried.  “I’m sorry, though.  I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

“You didn’t,” she said, smirking.  “Not to mention, that little purse-snatcher was the first wave of crime this area has had for the past five years.”  Peter had to withhold of a groan because he knew she was too smart to try to lie to.  “And even if that was the case, if you really were here to help out lowly convenient store workers, you obviously just failed at your job.  Way to let the purse-snatcher go.”

Karen, his lifesaver right now, quickly said, “There was a local police officer down the alley and the purse-snatcher is currently being apprehended.”

Peter kept himself from sighing in relief.  “The police are already on the scene.  Queens has been able to do plenty without Spider-Man.  And you clearly didn’t need my help, anyway,” he said, crossing his arms.  The way he was speaking to MJ was nothing like how Peter would normally talk to her.  That was kind of the point, though, because Peter wasn’t prepared for her to find out about his identity. 

“I haven’t needed your help the entire week you’ve been following me,” she said.  She didn’t sound offended or uncomfortable.  The way she spoke reminded Peter of someone who was dryly reciting a speech her or she had spent hours trying to memorize.

“What do you mean?”

“The path to my house isn’t in areas that have a high-crime rate, either,” she said.  “I’m—”

“Observant,” Peter finished for her.  It was as though Peter’s blood went cold.  He thought about coming up with another lie, only there wasn’t really much that would accurately cover his ass.  “Alright.  You got me.”

She didn’t smile, and he was really starting to regret his decision.  “Why?  What do you want from me?”

Peter hesitated.  After everything he and MJ had gone through, he suddenly realized that he couldn’t find it in himself to lie.  Not to her.  Not after she’s been so caring and loving to him.  He knew he couldn’t tell her who was under the mask but if Peter could be at least a little honest, that would be good.  “I’m friends with Peter Parker,” he attempted.  That wasn’t revealing any serious secrets; Ned already shouted this across the gym floor with MJ right beside them.

MJ didn’t respond right away.  Her narrowed eyes softened just slightly as she took in the masked vigilante.  “Peter?”  The fact that she didn’t sound outwardly angry would have comforted Peter, except he knew MJ.  She was talking to a stranger, who had been stalking her for the last week not to mention, which meant that she wouldn’t be as open with Spider-Man as she was with Peter Parker.  “Why would he do that?”

“He was worried about you,” Peter said.  “He thought you were being distant.”

“And instead of just asking me, he thought it would be a good idea to send you after me?  Instead of you stopping real criminals?” MJ asked.

Peter didn’t really have a good answer to that.  “Say something, Peter,” Karen muttered.  “If you don’t answer, she’ll probably just get mad.”  _Thanks Karen._

“He wasn’t thinking straight,” Peter finally said.  _That_ was starting to dawn on Peter the more this discussion progressed.  To be suspicious that she was keeping something from Peter is one thing, but to go behind her back, invade her privacy the way that he’s been doing was _wrong_.  “He was scared that something was going on in your life, something bad, and he was afraid that you weren’t telling him what’s going on because you didn’t want to be an extra burden to him given everything that’s going on with him.  And I was worried about… about Peter, so I offered to keep tabs on you.”

MJ looked back at the ground.  “Oh.” 

Peter backtracked because he really didn’t want her to feel bad about something _he_ was doing.  “I shouldn’t have done it.”

“It’s okay,” she said.  She paused.  “I would tell you more about me, but I don’t know who the hell you are.”

Peter laughed.  “That’s true, and I don’t expect anything from you.”

She nodded.  “Thanks for not letting my friends die at the DC monument.  I don’t have a lot of them so… I kind of you.”

“You don’t owe me anything,” Peter said, quickly.  Hopefully not too quickly as to tip her off.

She looked at Peter, really Spider-Man, straight in the eyes.  And by eyes, Peter really means the narrowed, mechanical slits; Peter had never felt so grateful that someone couldn’t see his face clearly.  She cleared her throat and finally said, “I need to go home before my dad starts to wonder why I’m late.”  She looked down the dark alley that she normally takes to go home, the same alley through which the purse-snatcher escaped.  “You should know the route if you want to follow me.  I don’t want Peter to be worried.”  She was being far from mocking, so that made Peter feel a little better, and it was an invitation.  Judging by the sound of her voice, she wasn’t baiting Peter, either.  And he started to realize that that invitation wasn’t out of trust for Spider-Man, but for the sake of Peter.

And because of that, Peter didn’t need to worry.  “Nah.  I think that little display shows you can take care of yourself.”  She was about to turn away until Peter stopped her again.  “Hey.  Don’t be too hard on Peter.”  _That_ was a cowardly move, and he knew it.  The fact that Peter knew it and still said made it infinitely worse. 

She nodded.  “I won’t.  Thanks for telling me the truth,” she added before turning away.

That night, Peter endured all of his rounds and the long walk back to his apartment thinking about what MJ said to him.  She cared about him.  Trusted him.  And he repaid her by spying on her.  He felt _terrible_.  That thought rung with him the whole night, so it was no surprise that Peter didn’t sleep all that great that night.  He was up, thinking hard about how he was going to explain to MJ what he did and thinking obsessively about how she was going to react.  Come morning, Peter get dressed in a daze, pulling on his jacket, packing his bag.  May had the day off from work, so she and Peter left early for school.  They stopped by a local café, one right on 5 th Avenue with the friendly baristas that always gave students in high school and college a little discount.  Assuming that MJ was going to be waiting for Peter, he thought he could bribe her a bit by buying her some coffee.  He didn’t bother to get extra sweeteners or cream, knowing full well that she only drank black coffee.

“Are you alright?  You seem a little on edge,” May said as she pulled up to Midtown. 

Peter didn’t say anything at first.  Ever since his breakdown, every time Peter doesn’t act chirpy and exuberant, May automatically assumed something was wrong.  She was normally spot on, but sometimes Peter just wished he could wallow for a couple of days without everyone raining down hell thinking he’s going to go off the reservation again.  “Yeah.  It’s…”  May knew Peter better so he didn’t lie.  “MJ is still pretty reserved.  It’s nothing.  I’m going to talk to her about it today.”

May smiled.  “Good.  Talking is very mature of you, Peter.  And you’re bringing her coffee.  How sweet of you.”

He scowled.  What did it say about Peter that he decided to tail his girlfriend first before confronting her to see if there really was a problem?  And the coffee was just an attempt to soften her up, so double whammy on Peter’s conscience.  “Right,” Peter said.  “I’ll see you later, May.”  He leaned over to kiss May’s cheek before gathering up his backpack and trying hard to be strong as he walked into Midtown.  Just as he suspected, MJ was waiting by his locker, sitting criss-crossed flipping through her history textbook.  Peter gathered up his courage as he went to approach her.  “Hey,” he said.  Peter helped her up and, after getting a sense of the situation, thought it’d be okay for him to kiss MJ’s cheek.  He gave her the coffee.  “How was work last night?”  He was pushing it with that question.  Would she attack him about supposedly sending Spider-Man after her?  Would she tell him about the purse-snatcher?

“It was fine,” she said with a shrug.  

He gauged MJ’s reaction, waited for a second to see if she was going to say anything else.  _Don’t push it._ “That’s good.”

She smiled.  She pressed the lid of her coffee cup to her lips and took a drink.  “Thanks for the coffee.  Black like my heart.”

Peter laughed.  “I’m not going to argue with you on that.”

The joke between the two of them settled.  She turned to Peter with a sweet smile.  _Here it comes._ “What are you doing Friday night?”

What?  “Oh.  _Oh._ I didn’t have any plans.  Aren’t you supposed to be working?”

MJ shrugged.  “I got the day off.  I figured we could hang out, if you want.  My dad wants to take Kevin and some of his friends bowling that night and he agreed I could invite someone over.  He gave me some cash so that we could get some food, rent out some movies.  It could be a night in… if that’s what you want.”  She gave Peter a small smile. 

Peter _really_ wasn’t expecting that.  He nodded.  “Yeah, that sounds like fun.”

MJ smiled.  “Great.”  She leaned forward to kiss Peter’s cheek.  “Have May drop you off tomorrow night.  I’ve got to get to class.”

As MJ rounded the corner to go to class, Peter couldn’t help but keep watching.  He went to school that entire day, sat through lunch with his friends trying to understand why MJ hadn’t said anything about Peter _and_ Spider-Man.  Thursday’s practice came and went fast; still nothing.  Friday at school and during the captain’s meeting went just the same, even better.  They got through their work quickly but instead of hanging out afterwards, she parted ways quickly to get ready for their date tonight.  Since MJ went all of Thursday and Friday at school not saying anything when she very well could have, Peter figured she had her reasons for not bringing up what happened.  He should respect that, right?

But it didn’t change the fact that he was nervous to go to her house that night.  Even if she wasn’t mad or wasn’t planning on confronting Peter about him, he wanted to do something nice for her so he stopped by the marketplace to buy some fresh flowers.  He made sure to arrive on time where Peter knocked on the door a couple of times.  Behind the door, Peter could hear the sound of footsteps and shuffling about.  He gripped the stem of the carnations tightly.  It opened slowly and, expecting MJ, Peter grinned.  It wasn’t her.  It was her father, looming and massive and staring down at Peter.  Mr. Jones was smiling, looking friendly in a gray long-sleeve tee, a pair of jeans and a jacket thrown over his shoulder, like a typical single dad trying to keep his life together.  It had been a few weeks since Peter had last seen Mr. Jones, and whatever he was doing, supposedly working long, arduous hours, was clearly taking a toll of him.  His eyes were weary, run-down.

“It’s Peter, right?” Mr. Jones asked.  He held out his hand and Peter took it quickly.  “MJ’s excited about tonight.  Those flowers for me?”

Peter smiled.  “Totally.”

“I’m just messing with you, Peter.  I’ll got you vase,” Mr. Jones said, patting Peter on the shoulder. 

Peter followed MJ’s father into the kitchen and living room.  Even from the entryway, Peter could hear the sound of some game playing.  He rounded the corner where he saw Kevin sitting on the ground of the living room beside a boy of the same age, with porcelain skin and ashy hair; they were staring intently at the TV screen.  They were playing one of the older versions of _Mario Kart,_ and judging by the way that Kevin’s friends were cheering madly, it was clear that the game was getting pretty intense.  Behind Kevin sprawled on a sectional light blue sofa were three of his other friends, staring intently at the TV screen.  Meanwhile, MJ was standing in the kitchen, quite possibly the nicest, most put together room in her whole house, complete with state-of-the-art kitchen appliances, glossy white cabinets and an expensive looking dinette.  She was dressed comfortably, old jeans and an even older gray sweatshirt.  A white bag covered with grease stains was set on the counter beside a box of hot chocolate.    

“Look what he got for you,” Mr. Jones said, holding up the flowers.  He grabbed a vase from the cabinet above the sink and flipped the faucet on.  While her father was preoccupied, MJ came over to Peter, brushing her fingers against his; she pulled away fast when her father came over.  “You seem to get her flowers a lot.”

Peter shrugged.  “When my uncle and aunt were dating, he used to buy her flowers every other week.  Said they always needed to be fresh.  I don’t get her flowers that much but…”

Mr. Jones smiled.  “I don’t even spend that kind of money on MJ.”

“ _Dad_ ,” MJ hissed, cheeks flushing with red.  She turned to glance at Peter, smiling sheepishly.

“You know I’m just messing with you,” Mr. Jones said.  He leaned over to grab MJ’s shoulders, shake her a little bit before pulling her into a hug.  She cringed, obviously embarrassed and obviously unhappy with her.  “Look at her.  It’s so easy to embarrass her.”  There was a little bit of laughter, but it died quickly.  “Alright.  Why don’t we get out of your hair?  Kevin?  You ready to go?”

Kevin looked up from her video game.  “Can I finish this game?”

Mr. Jones frowned.  “Alright, but hurry.  MJ and Peter want some alone time.”

“Ew.  Gross,” one of Kevin’s friends muttered.  At that, Mr. Jones, Peter and MJ all shared a good, hearty laugh.   

Shortly after, Kevin’s game ended and Mr. Jones and MJ were hurriedly working together to round up Kevin and his friends so that they could head over to the bowling center.  While Mr. Jones was scrambling to find his wallet somewhere in his bedroom upstairs, MJ was gathering up coats and mittens for Kevin and his friends.  Watching her, the way she took care of her brother, it was obvious how much responsibility she had to take on since her mother died.  From what Peter had seen, it was clear that she was doing everything to keep the family together: cook breakfast, lunch and dinner for herself, her brother and her father; pick and drop off Kevin at school.  Peter supposed it was all in good faith because her father was constantly busy with work, but May did just what MJ’s father did.  And lord forbid, if Peter needed to be as responsible as MJ, he would probably forget to feed himself. 

When Mr. Jones came down from his room, MJ was in the middle of fastening Kevin’s jacket.  “Are you sure you’re going to be alright tonight?” MJ asked.  Peter wasn’t sure if she was addressing her father or Kevin.

“What?  Are you afraid I can’t handle a few third graders?” Mr. Jones said, grinning.  “Text me if you need anything!” he yelled as Mr. Jones ushered Kevin and his friends out the door.

With her father gone, MJ let out a half-groan, half-sigh of relief.  “I’m sorry about him.  He’s always—”

“Embarrassing you?” Peter finished.  He leaned forward to give her a kiss on her cheek.  “Relax.  That’s what parents are for.  You have no idea what May does to me.”

“Believe me, I do,” MJ said, chuckling light.  Her laugh rung as she took Peter’s hand and brought him into her kitchen.

Now that it was just Peter and MJ and the sound of _Mario Kart_ was no longer blasting, MJ went over to the stereo to put on some music.  It was gentle ‘80s music, some songs that even Peter didn’t recognize (which was weird, considering that May was constantly playing older music in their apartment at all hours).  Together, she and Peter gathered up some plates, thermoses of hot chocolate, their food and a few blankets too.  With everything bunched up in their hands, they headed toward her porch.  Considering how closely packed all the houses seemed to be in her cul-de-sac, her backyard was pretty spacious.  There was plenty of open grass, surrounded by some pretty worn-down fencing.  Plants and trees and even a little vegetable garden decorated the yard.  Right outside the entrance to the backyard was a small little awning under which swung a little wooden porch swing.  The rods suspending the swing seemed a little rusty but it still looked to be in good condition.  MJ set the blankets and thermoses on the porch swung, gesturing for Peter to come join her.

“This place is pretty nice,” Peter said once he was settled.  He grabbed the fleece blankets and draped it around the two of them.

MJ nodded.  “Yeah.  We had something like this back in Massachusetts.  My mom used to like sitting out on a porch swing when it was raining.  Said it cleared her mind so we tried to do something like that here.  It’s about the only time my dad will even acknowledge that my mom used to exist.”  She looked away from Peter.

“How is your dad taking your mom’s death?  Is he still… grieving?” Peter asked.

“I don’t think he’s ever gotten over it,” MJ admitted.  She clenched onto the blanket tightly.  “When my mom died, it hit my dad hard.  I wouldn’t go so far to say that he was depressed but he was close to it.  And around that time, that’s when he really started to throw himself into his work.  I feel like he’s gotten better since what happened but he hasn’t completely gotten past it.  I don’t think he’ll ever completely heal.”

“And what about you?”

She shrugged.  “Well, you know what it’s like to lose someone you care about.”

“That’s true,” he said, bobbing his head a couple of times.

Peter leaned against the side of the porch swing, glancing at MJ every now and then as they sat together in silence.  Peter was waiting for MJ to bring up what happened at the convenient store.  She wasn’t one to hold a grudge, be passive aggressive, gossip to her friends about what Peter asked _Spider-Man_ to do to her.  If MJ was upset about what happened and, considering what a huge violation of privacy it was, MJ was going to bring it up.  The fact that she hadn’t yet, that they went through Thursday and Friday, without asking Peter about it was gnawing on his insides.

“Are you okay?” MJ asked.  Peter looked over at her, forever grateful that didn’t look suspicious.

Peter nodded.  “Yeah.  I’m just starving.”

He made a grab for the food.  On his signal, MJ pulled open the bag of burgers and fries.  It was from some chain burger joint next to MJ’s work.  When Peter was busy watching MJ, he bought a few burgers from that place to help get through her shift and he had to admit they were pretty good.  He eagerly watched as she divvied up the two burgers and fries on the paper plates.  The second Peter took a bit of a burger, he felt like all his worries were slipping away.  It was _amazing_ what good food could do for Peter after a long, stressful day.

“Am I boring you?” MJ asked. 

He swallowed a whole bit of burger before turning to MJ.  “What?  Sorry,” Peter asked.

“You seem very distracted,” MJ said. 

Peter shrugged.  “I just got a lot going on.  Mr. Stark is trying to debut some new tech in a couple of weeks and there’s just a lot of prep work I have to do for it.”  Lying again.  He should just spit it out.

She nodded.  There was a long pause in the conversation where MJ and Peter finished up their food quickly, stuffing the trash into the little paper bag.  When they were finished eating, MJ turned to look at Peter before taking his hand in her hands.  Her fingers were ice cold, enough to make Peter pull her closer, completely engulfing her fingers in his.  “Hey,” she muttered.  “Um, I’m sorry I’ve been kind of distant these few days.”

Peter didn’t loosen up his grip, but he admittedly didn’t see this coming.  “What do you mean?”

“I understand you can worry,” MJ said.  “And I understand that… _anxiety_ only makes it worse.”  She rarely addressed Peter’s anxiety or PTSD this head on for the sake of his privacy, so the fact that she actually said that meant she was being pretty serious.  “It wasn’t fair for me to be so distant.  I’ve just been busy with work.  My boss is up my ass all the time.  I’m drowning in papers.  Not to mention the decathlon team is really stressing me out.”

It wasn’t just a simple explanation.  She looked ashamed of herself, as though Peter acting out irrationally for worrying all the time was completely her fault.  “Hey,” Peter interrupted.  He leaned forward, pressing a kiss on her forehead.  “I don’t need an explanation, and I shouldn’t let myself get so worked up.”

“Especially since I can take care of myself,” MJ said, grinning.  “And your pal Spider-Man can attest to that.”

_And there it is._   “Yeah, I was waiting for you to bring that up.  I’m sorry about that, by the way.  Not the greatest decision I’ve ever made,” Peter said, sighing.  “How creepy was it?  Sending Spider-Man after you?”

“I don’t know if creepy is the right word.  A little overprotective maybe,” MJ said, laughing.  “He seems like a cool dude, though.”

“He is,” Peter said.  He had no idea what he was getting so stressed about and all this conversation proved was that MJ was one of the coolest people he’s ever met.  On most circumstances, stalking would have called for a breakup.  He let out a sigh of relief now that that was out of the way.  He turned to her and said, “You want to go inside and watch a movie?  It’s pretty cold out here.”

She nodded, shivering.  The two of them collected their things before going back into the living room; the music was still playing when they walked inside.  While Peter took care of throwing the trash away and rinsing the thermoses out with water, MJ slumped onto her couch as she flipped through the DVDs she had stored in a little cabinet underneath her TV.  They picked _Mission Impossible_ , one of Kevin’s favorites.  When Ben was still alive, they used to watch these _Mission Impossible_ movies at least one month so just seeing the cover photo of Tom Cruise made Peter feel nostalgic.  She put the first movie in before yanking a blanket over the two of them.  MJ found a comfortable position, legs sprawled out, back leaning up against her couch cushion.  Peter sat beside her, glancing at her occasionally with a smile on his face.  As the movie progressed, MJ settled closer to Peter until eventually he had his arms wrapped around her.  She nuzzled her head comfortably into his chest. 

When the movie was over, Peter glanced at the clock to see that it was 9:30.  Yawning, he got up from the couch.  “I think I might head home right now,” he said.  To be honest, Peter just needed to get started on his rounds a little bit earlier so that he could go sleep sooner. 

“You can stay later,” MJ said.  “My dad said something about taking Kevin to the movies after going bowling so they probably won’t be home for a little bit.”  

Peter bit down on his lip.  She didn’t sound angry with Peter.  Just curious.  “I’m just kind of beat.  Probably just going to head home.”

“To sleep?”

Peter nodded.  “Yeah, probably.  Maybe I’ll hang out with May if she’s still sleeping.”

“So, you’re not ditching me to be Spider-Man tonight?” MJ asked, innocently.

Peter stopped dead in his tracks.  He blinked a couple of times as he tried to narrow in on what MJ was saying to him.  He felt his face flood red, legs start to quake.  This wasn’t happening.  Peter must have heard wrong because there’s no way she would know.  “Um…” he muttered, though he still couldn’t quite wrap his head around the situation.  “Sorry.  I, uh, think I got distracted.  What did you say?”

“You’re Spider-Man and you have to go look for criminals, which is why we can’t hang out tonight.” she said, _not asked._ Acting like it was no big deal.

You ever have those moments where something really bad happens to you and you’re so stunned for a second that you don’t really believe that it’s true?  Like you’re checking for an email to see if you got a job but you get turned down.  Or, you’re opening up a response form a college and you’re rejected.  You read through the email or the letter a few times because you keep thinking the next time you open your eyes, what you actually want to see will be in front of you.  _Because it can’t be real._   Well, this was one of those moments and the fact that Peter stressed out over little thing, good, bad or neutral, only amplified the situation. 

“I — I really don’t understand what you’re saying,” Peter sputtered.

MJ shrugged.  “I know about your secret.”

_I know._ What the hell does that even mean?  Peter barely managed to plant himself on the couch beside MJ, eyes still trained on the ground.  “You think I’m Spider-Man?” was the only thing Peter could manage to say.   Should he deny it?  She can’t prove anything.  If this had been any other person, if it wasn’t _Michelle Jones_ calling Peter out on a huge secret, he would have been able to come up with a great lie.  He could explain whatever evidence she was trying to use to prove that he was the masked vigilante.  Only, it was MJ.  The girl he was pretty sure he loved.  The girl who knew about his trauma and PTSD and held him through nightmares and panic attacks.  She knew Peter better than anyone else, other than May and Tony.  If anyone could figure out that Peter was Spider-Man, it would have been her.

She nodded.  “To be fair, you’re not that good at keeping a secret.  At least, from me.  It just makes sense if you really think about.  Just think of the timeline.  Spider-Man started showing up around New York our freshmen year.  You got the Stark Internship that same year, too, which makes sense because Tony Stark recruited Spider-Man to fight against Captain America.  You went on that intern retreat right when there was a huge fight in Germany.  Then at the beginning of this year, you quit everything you joined because the ‘internship’ was too time-consuming.  But you on a whim joined the decathlon team right around the time of nationals, and then of all sudden Spider-Man just happens to be around to save the team at the Washington Monument.  Gee, I wonder why Spider-Man was in DC.  _And_ you ditched Liz at homecoming, the same night Adrian Toomes was arrested.”

Peter frowned.  “I think that might just be a crazy coincidence.”

“Then how do you explain the fact that Spider-Man knew my work schedule and all the backroads I take to get to and from work?  And ‘ _you’re observant’_.  Dead giveaway, Parker,” MJ said.  She was very matter-of-fact, as though this little discovery wasn’t that significant. 

Peter felt the exact opposite.  In fact, he was still so stuck in denial that he continued to deny her.  “I… Spider-Man told me that he explained to you how I was worried and showed him the path, which is creepy and wrong of me to do, but I’m not Spider-Man.”

“So, if you’re not Spider-Man, that means I won’t find the suit in your bedroom in that secret little compartment in the ceiling by your closet?” she asked.

“How do you even know about that compartment?”

“I told you.  I’m observant,” MJ said. 

Peter was in a corner and he had to give her props, too.  The way she explained how Peter’s mysterious behavior and Spider-Man’s timelines lined up so perfectly made Peter feel foolish that he hadn’t tried harder to cover his identity.  Then again, this was Michelle Jones he was dealing with.  She wasn’t like normal teenagers.  Evidently, observant was understatement.  Plus, Peter wasn’t going around following people at school the way he had with MJ the last couple of weeks so that surely wasn’t going to help him try to keep a secret identity from her.  But that now she knows, what does this mean for their relationship?  Peter didn’t think MJ was the kind of person who liked superheroes, especially for their violent tendencies and sometimes carelessness for collateral damage.  But he wasn’t a regular superhero.  He was —

“Peter?”  Despite his head feeling suddenly cloudy with thought, MJ’s voice was high and clear.  “This isn’t going to change anything.  You’re still you.  Now I just one more about you to worry about.”  She was trying to add levity to the conversation but it was failing pretty badly. 

Peter frowned.  “I’m sorry.  I’m still having a pretty hard time understanding what’s going on.”

MJ got up from where she was sitting.  She grabbed hold of Peter’s hand.  “You just have one less thing that you have to hide from me.  One less secret between us.”

Peter stared at her.  The urge to lie came up to the back of his throat but one look at MJ’s kind, wide-eyes was enough to send the lie shooting back down into his chest.  “Because I’m Spider-Man,” Peter finally said with a heavy breath. 

“Yeah,” she said.

“How long have you known?” Peter asked.  He was still testing the waters to try and figure how he felt about MJ knowing.  Would it be like May?  Constantly worrying about him at all hours of the day, the way Peter worried about MJ?  Or maybe it would be like Ned.  She could be part of the team, there to help Spider-Man through his big missions, if he ever had another one again.  This could be a good thing.  She would have a better handle on Peter’s trauma now that she knew more about what could potentially trigger a panic attack or a flashback.  And it meant Peter didn’t have to lie to her.

“I always suspected it,” she said.  “Freshman year when you were gone for that Stark Internship around the time of the civil war, a thought crossed my mind that you were Spider-Man.  I was just joking to myself.  Only…”

“The timeline made sense,” Peter said.  Her response was to nod.  “You really are observant… and I thought you knew everything about me just because you had a crush on me.”

She rolled her eyes, leaning over to punch him.  “You wish.”  She paused, going to sit beside Peter.  “Who else knows?”

Peter smiled.  “Not a lot of people.  Tony, obviously.  He’s the one who made me the suit.  Vision and Rhodes know, of course.  So does Pepper Potts and Ned.”

“I’m not surprised about Ned knowing.  I knew there was a reason Ned still wanted to be friends with you,” she said, laughing.  “But what about the other Avengers, like Captain America?”

Peter shook his head.  “Nope.  I’m impressed you were able to find out so quickly.  May knew something was going on with me but she thought I was getting caught up with a gang or something.  The wrong crowd.”

“How did she find out?”

“I was trying on my suit and forgot to close my bedroom door all the way,” Peter said, to which MJ laughed whole-heartedly.  “Sometimes I can do stupid things.”

“Not going to argue with you on that,” MJ said.  Their laughter died down for a second, but the silence was comfortable.  “Whenever you say that you’re just hanging out at night, are you really going out to do… whatever it is Spider-Man does at night?”

“Rounds?” Peter filled in.  “Yeah.  I normally just wander around while Karen scans for criminals.  If it’s a slow night, I’ll just go to Empire State University and make sure college kids don’t get hit by cars when they’re trying to get back to their dorms.”

“Karen?  Is there a female Spider-Man I don’t know about?” she asked.

Peter just laughed.  “She’s the AI in my suit.  You heard of JARVIS or FRIDAY, right?  She’s kind of like that.”

 “Interesting,” she said with a smirk.  “What’s it like?  Risking your life every night for the greater good?”

“I don’t know what you assume I do every night, but it’s not all about fighting criminals and getting in gun fights,” Peter said.  “I do a lot of things: give people directions when they’re lost, carry groceries when someone doesn’t have enough hands.  One time, I helped someone fix a tire when it blew out in the middle of the highway.  I do things that the police officers can’t always do.  Fight criminals the police can’t necessarily handle.”

“Like Liz’s dad?” MJ said.  She wasn’t trying to sound crass, but merely bringing up Adrian Toomes was enough for unwanted thoughts to come into Peter’s head.  She detected that quickly, backtracking.  “Sorry.  I’m not sure why I said that.  I’m just—”

“Curious,” Peter finished.  MJ gave an embarrassed nod.  Peter didn’t like that, seeing her upset just because of him.  “Will your dad be mad if you go out with me tonight?”

She looked a little tentative.  “Go out like…”

“I want to show you something,” Peter said.  He got up from the couch, an idea forming in his head.  He was excited.  _Really excited_.  “Do you think you could ask your dad to see if you could come home late tonight?  Maybe 12:30?  1:00?”

Peter could see the hesitation forming in her face but she nodded nonetheless.  “I’ll call him.  Maybe you could text May and she could come pick us up?  Or we could take the bus?  I don’t really care.”

“Do you mind if we take the bus?  I don’t want to make May drive all the way out here,” Peter said.  He turned around, only to realize she wasn’t in the living room anymore.  He went to the entryway where he found that she was leaning against the wall, phone pressed to her ear whispering into the receiver.  A second later, she hung up and turned around.  Peter was normally good at reading people but her expression was blank, confused even.  “Is everything alright?  Did he say no?”

MJ shook her head.  “No.  He said I could be out as late as I want.  I just need to keep my phone on.”

“That’s good!” Peter exclaimed, nudging her shoulder.  “You might want to grab a jacket.  It’s going to be a little cold where we’re going.”

MJ raised her eyebrows.  “And where are we going?”

Peter’s only response was a wide grin.  

* * *

Since Peter texted May that he and MJ were going to their apartment by bus, he wasn’t surprised when he showed up at their apartment and she was asleep.  They quietly hurried to Peter’s bedroom making sure not to disturb May.  Ever since his breakdown in January, Peter has kept his room absurdly and uncharacteristically clean.  Clothes were nice and folded and organized in his closet.  His desk, for once, wasn’t cluttered and messy.  Peter even went out of his way to make his bed every morning.  It was practically routine now, a part of his daily schedule that helped keep Peter sane.  MJ seemed to notice, the way her eyes took in his room.  She knew her way around, too, so she had no problem finding the lamp switch by Peter’s desk and flicked the lights on.

MJ grinned.  She sat on the edge of Peter’s desk.  “You wanted to show me your clean bedroom?  Did you really think I wasn’t going to believe you when you said you know how to clean up?”

Peter laughed.  “Actually, I wanted to show you something else.”  Peter closed the door behind MJ before going to his closet and pulling the string connected to the secret compartment.  A second later, the Iron-Spider suit came tumbling out.  Peter’s reflexes willed his hands to move and catch the suit before it went falling to the ground.  He ran the fabric of the suit between his fingers before holding it up. 

MJ got up from where she was sitting.  “Is that the…”  She went to stand beside Peter.  “The new one?”

Peter nodded.  “Yeah.  I’ve only wore it a couple of times,” Peter said.  Peter started going on rounds again just a couple of weeks ago.  Considering that Iron-Man made an occasional guest appearance to help assist Spider-Man, there have been pictures surfacing in the news and tabloids.  Peter wouldn’t say that he’s a celebrity but seeing some news reporters discuss the Iron-Spider suit in depth made him feel like one.  The pictures, however, didn’t do the suit justice in Peter’s opinion.  The lighting wasn’t that great and since the suit was mostly black, it tended to blend in with the background.  “What do you think?” he said, handing it to MJ.

She held up the suit.  “Wow.  Have to say I didn’t think my night would end with me holding Spider-Man’s new suit.”

“I’m full of surprises,” Peter said with a grin. 

“How do you breathe out of this?” she said.

“Oh, it’s not that bad,” Peter said.  He took the mask from MJ and slipped it over his head.  “See?  Perfectly fine.  But this wasn’t what I wanted to show you, either.”

She set the suit onto Peter’s desk.  MJ wasn’t one to be subtle about anything; that was something Peter knew for sure.  If she wanted something, she’d let Peter know.  But that being said, she was still one to flirt with Peter.  _A lot_.  She grinned mischievously, brushing a strand of her hair.  “And what _did_ you want to show me?”

Peter smirked.  He went to his dresser, digging through some of his socks before he pulled out his OG web-shooters, this little metallic contraption that had a compartment in which Peter could refill his web concoction.  Just in case something happens to the Iron-Spider suit (Peter was always suspicious of the heavy tech-suit; he’s seen Tony’s suit breakdown one too many times), there was always a couple vials of web concoction on standby.  Stashed beside the vials was the crumpled-up piece of scrap paper in which Peter jotted down his notes for the concoction.  Peter grabbed hold of one vial and reloaded the web shooters.  “This is just something I made up during science club meetings when things got boring,” Peter said.  He showed the recipe to MJ.  “What do you think?”

“Not bad,” MJ said.  “And it makes sense considering I thought you hated the science club.”

Peter rolled his eyes.  “I do.  The president of the club is only there to show off that he knows more than everyone else.  But at least I got free access to chem labs after school _.”_

“Didn’t you quit the science club this year?” MJ said, handing the piece of paper back to Peter. 

Peter nodded.  “I’m taking chemistry this year and our teacher doesn’t pay attention that well.”

“So that’s what you were mixing in the middle of class?” MJ said.

“You saw that?”

MJ rolled her eyes.  “I figured out that you were Spider-Man and you’re surprised that I saw you mixing stuff under your desk in chemistry.  At least I didn’t see you doing other things under your desk.”

Peter raised his eyebrows.  “What the hell does that mean?”

She laughed, whole-heartedly.  “Seriously.  What did you want to show me?”

Peter smiled.  He tucked his mask under his arm before grabbing the web shooters and securing it in place.  “Come here,” Peter said, holding out his hand, which MJ took a second later.  He led her toward his bedroom window, the one hanging directly over the now relatively deserted street.  “Do you trust me?”

It didn’t MJ that long to realize what Peter was insinuating.  “Oh.  You mean…”  MJ leaned over to glance at the street, but MJ was fearless.  “Of course, I do.  But… won’t people see you?”

“That’s what the mask is for,” Peter said.  He slipped the Iron-Spider mask on before grinning.  “Are you sure you want to do this?”

She grinned.  “Yeah.  Of course.” 

Peter believed her.  He took his arm around her waist and helped her onto the ledge of his bedroom.  Beyond a few windows that were lit up and a couple of cars driving up and down the streets, there was no one that would be able to see Peter or MJ swinging down the street.  Now that he was sure the area was clear, Peter looked to MJ.  Her eyes were wide, curious as she looked around his apartment building.  A little excited, too just by the way that her lips were curving into a subtle smile.  But also nervous.  _Very nervous_.  Her fingers found their way to Peter’s hip where she grasped tightly and in a matter of seconds, she was clinging onto Peter as though her life depended it (that statement wasn’t completely off, because she was kind of relying on Peter to make sure that she was safe).

But Peter knew MJ.  She wasn’t one to back down from something, even if it scared her.  He flung a web at the building across the street, leaned over and then let go.  Even though Peter was well versed in this sort of travel, he had never carried someone the way he was carrying MJ.  It was different than just getting some civilian out of the line of danger.  Peter didn’t think in the middle of a fight, but right now, Peter’s mind was going haywire and the fact that MJ was pressed against him, her grip unbelievably tight around his chest didn’t help in the least bit.  But now wasn’t the time for Peter’s brain to being getting ahead of himself.  With a skilled swing, Peter landed on the top of a building a couple street-lights down.  He let go of MJ, who staggered a little bit before catching her balance.

“You alright?” Peter asked.  When she didn’t pull away from him, Peter put his arm around her waist to make sure that she was okay. 

She nodded, breathing heavy.  “Yeah.  Um… shit.  Do you do that every night?”

Peter shrugged.  “Yeah.  I’ve done it plenty of times that I’m basically used to it.”  She laughed without humor.  She ran her fingers through her hair, trying to calm herself down.  The fact that she still wasn’t calm yet freaked Peter out.  “Hey, I’m not going to let you get hurt.”

She looked at Peter.  “I know.”  She glanced over to the street below.  Again, this part of Queens was pretty well-deserted right now but the farther down the road, the busier it would get.  “Are we going to keep going?”

“Only if you want to,” Peter assured.

“I want to,” she said. 

“Don’t be scared.”

She smiled, reaching for Peter and pulling him close to her.  “I’m not with you,” MJ said.  She leaned her head into her shoulder; Peter could feel her trembling.  “Flying across the street is something a little scared of… but that’s okay.”

 He flung a web again, this time farther.  He wouldn’t dare test how far he could shoot his webs while supporting not just Peter but also MJ.  If he calculated something wrong and she got hurt, especially when Peter could tell she was already so nervous, he wouldn’t forgive himself.  He tried to take it slow with her.  Keep themselves relatively close to the ground, not spend too long in the air at a time.  Because Peter was going so low to the ground, he made sure not to go in very public places, either, especially because he didn’t want to risk anyone seeing MJ with Spider-Man.  Considering that he had a destination in mind, the highest building in Queens (that had a flat rooftop at the very least), Peter knew the backroads.  He wanted to take her to the top of this really expensive, _really_ fancy hotel right in the heart of Queens.  During rounds one night, Peter rested at the top of the hotel, only to realize that this place had perhaps the best view of their hometown.

The further they flew, the more comfortable Peter could tell she was getting.  She was still shaking, that was something Peter was starting to realize wasn’t going to go away anytime soon, but her eyes were shut closed in terror.  Her grip was still tight, but she wasn’t burying her head in his shoulder.  MJ was taking in the surroundings, staring in awe as they rushed past building after building, street lamp after street lamp, car after car.  Peter knew what she was thinking.  That _awe_ at the sight and feeling of _flying_ , soaring through the air with absolutely nothing in your way.  It was freedom of the highest sort.  Relaxing, exhilarating.  Terrifying, but an indescribable moment that (after the fact) she would probably look back and never regret. 

Peter was pretty close to the hotel.  It wasn’t a tricky maneuver by any means but to someone who had never traveled by web before like MJ, it would be pretty scary.  “Hold onto me,” Peter said.  “This, um, it’s going to get a little scary so don’t let go.”

“Wasn’t planning on it,” MJ said with a weak laugh. 

Peter laughed as he got a running straight off the side of the building.  It was a little bit of a jump to get to the rooftop of the hotel, but he angled his swing just enough that Peter and MJ were heading straight to the hotel.  That, coupled with the way Peter curved his body and the speed of their swing, Peter and MJ began propelling upwards.  Peter let go of the web he was currently using and attached another to the rooftop of the hotel.  It took a little bit of muscling on Peter’s part but he landed with a graceful pose onto the roof.  There was no time for Peter to feel accomplished with himself because he immediately turned to MJ to make sure that she was okay. 

“Yeah.  I’m good,” she said.  “Is it bad that I think I’m getting used to it?”

“I think that’s great… because I still got to take you home,” Peter said.  He discretely checked his web shooters, satisfied with knowing that he should have plenty of web to get back to MJ’s place. 

“Right,” MJ said.  “I forgot about that.”

She was gasping for breath the way she had when Peter first let go of her, and that was a very good sign.  MJ glanced at Peter only briefly before making her way to the edge of the rooftop where she stared off at the view.  Even for Peter, who had seen some crazy things after becoming Spider-Man, this was always enough to draw a reaction from Peter.  Queens, New York (any part of New York) was a sight to behold.  Even this late at night, the businesses and apartments and restaurants down below were still active, lights on everywhere, making the entire city look like it was glowing.  Streetlights beaming orange rays illuminated the variety of cars, the headlights or brake lights making it look like a dazzling Christmas tree.  Peter looked to MJ, who was in awe.  And she looked _beautiful_ next to him. It reminded Peter of the way she smiled when Mr. Harrington announced her captain or when Peter was announced as co-captain, and probably when the team won the national competition at the beginning of the year.  Her smile reminded Peter of a time when all these problems didn’t exist.  An easier time.  A fantasy.

“Do you like the view?” Peter asked.

“I’ve never seen anything like this,” MJ said.  “Other than when my dad took me to the Empire State building.”

“It never gets old,” Peter said.  “Sorry.  I would normally take the mask but, uh, I don’t want to risk anyone seeing my face.”

“No.  I get it,” MJ said.  “Were you scared the first time you did that?”

Peter nodded.  “Yeah.  I’ve never even a flown in plane before Tony Stark recruited me to go to Germany with him.  It was pretty terrifying.  Plus, I hit a lot of buildings.”

MJ laughed.  She stared at the view for a couple seconds longer before glancing at Peter.  “What was it like fighting in the civil war?  And again Liz’s dad?”

Just looking at her eyes, she was nervous asking him this question.  Nervous, but curious and curiosity always got the better of her.  She would have understood if Peter just glanced over her question, but he wasn’t going to.  “Difficult,” he finally said.  “With the civil war, all I understood at first was that Tony Stark was asking for my help.  He told me that Captain America was assisting a war criminal responsible for bombing the United Nations.  They were breaking the law and, to me, that was enough.  I thought Captain America and his team was in the wrong.”

“Now you’re not so sure,” MJ said.

“It’s more complicated than that,” Peter said, but to be fair that wasn’t a straight denial of her question.  “Tony was wrong about the Winter Soldier.  _I_ was wrong about them.”  He hadn’t told anyone about this.  Not Tony.  Not May.  Not Dr. Strange.  He’s been contemplating this ever since Team Cap had come to help Vision, Tony and him while taking down the Secret Empire.  It was confusing.  Difficult., but getting to talk it over with MJ was easy.  “The implementation of the Sokovian Accords doesn’t help, either.  I like that it holds the Avengers accountable, but the people that run it use it as leverage against Tony and Vision.”

“That’s the government for ya,” MJ said.  He looked at her, that serious look on her face, and then the two broke out in laughter.  “What about Liz’s dad?  What was that like?”

“Hard,” Peter admitted.  “I didn’t know her father was the Vulture until homecoming night.  I humiliated her at the dance _and_ I got her dad arrested in one night.”

“Hell of a first date if you ask me,” MJ said.

“At least I haven’t gotten you’re dad arrested yet,” Peter said, nudging her shoulder. 

She looked away.  “Still early in our relationship,” she muttered.  It was supposed to be a joke but her voice was wavering; Peter couldn’t tell if she was shivering from the cold or from the fact that she has yet to calm down.

“You sure you’re alright?” Peter asked. 

She nodded.  “Yeah… This is just a view I could get used to.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas for those who celebrate. Have a great day!


	12. What Can I Do?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is mixed with a little bit of fluff but also a lot of content in terms of MJ’s home life. I haven’t really explored her story arc as much as I start to in this story. 
> 
> Hope you guys like it!

_“Obstacles are put in your way_

_to see if what you want_

_is really worth fighting for.”_

Chapter Twelve: What Can I Do?

Now that MJ knew about Peter being Spider-Man, it expectedly changed the way that their relationship worked.  It wasn’t like MJ suddenly found Peter more interesting now that she knew about his secret identity.  That would mean MJ favored Peter’s hidden identity more than Peter’s real one, and that was absurd just to think.  What it did mean was that they could take their relationship a step up, be more honest with each other than they ever could have before.  Going behind MJ’s back about the internship and not being able to explain why Peter couldn’t always hang out at night was gone.  He could be open with her and she was unbelievably understanding about it.  It wasn’t this overprotective, hysterical thing like it was with May, and it wasn’t like how Ned reacted, constantly pestering him with questions before finally joining forces with Peter to do rounds.  The way MJ treated Peter being Spider-Man made Peter feel like he was just a busy athlete and the girlfriend was being understanding of busy scheduling.  It wasn’t a big deal to her.  At least, she made it seem like it wasn’t. 

Just because she didn’t treat Peter any differently didn’t mean that learning about Spider-Man didn’t change their relationship at all.  It did… _for the better._ MJ was already someone who Peter relied on to discuss his PTSD with.  When he needed to talk to someone immediately and he couldn’t wait until Wednesday for his meeting with Dr. Strange, Peter would turn to MJ.  With Spider-Man being out on the table, he didn’t have to work around the boundaries of keeping a secret identity.  He could tell her about rounds, how he felt when he was fighting off a criminal.  What scared him.  Why he had nightmares.  Being absolutely honest with no boundaries was cathartic, cleansing.  She knew more about his PTSD than anyone.  She didn’t need to try and guess why he woke up from a nap drenched in sweat, or why even so much as seeing a building that looked remotely like the one Adrian Toomes dropped on him stressed Peter out so much.  The ins and outs of his trauma was easier to explain to her. 

Now that he can be more honest with MJ, he’s surprised with how much that’s influenced his PTSD and recovery rate.  He wasn’t by any means completely healed.  There were still boundaries he needed to break, nightmares that needed to be explored, but he felt like he had a grasp on his PTSD, not the other way around.  Going on rounds and protecting New York wasn’t becoming a stressor, but a feeling of relief, freedom.  Peter was slowly starting to return to his state of mind when he first got the state.  His freshman year, the first time Peter stopped a criminal, he felt like a real superhero.  Like an Avenger that could help stop crime and do good things and make a difference.  He was starting to get that feeling again.  Pride in what he was doing.

A lot of people involved in Peter’s life started to notice the strides that Peter was making.  Instead of keeping more secrets from his friends and family, Peter told them that MJ knew.  Ned was pretty excited since it might there was one another person with whom he could gossip about Peter being Spider-Man.  With May and Tony, they took it about as well as they could.  May thought she could convince MJ to help get Peter to stop doing such reckless things (this backfired since MJ had always been a fan of what Spider-Man does for New York).  Tony was pretty excited.  He liked MJ, despite the fact that they didn’t see eye to eye on most things.  After Peter told Tony about MJ finding out, he invited the two of them for lunch at the compound.  _That_ was weird.  MJ meeting Vision and Colonel Rhodes, getting to see the various Avenger suits was odd and unexpected, but good, nonetheless.  She fit right in. 

Dr. Strange had plenty to say about Michelle, too.  “She seems to care a lot about you,” Dr. Strange said at one of their scheduled Wednesday meetings.  Even though Peter was improving drastically, May and Tony weren’t going to stop Peter from meeting with Dr. Strange in case of a relapse or in case Peter wasn’t comfortable telling them something.  “And you care about her enough to tell her about Spider-Man?”

“I didn’t really tell her,” Peter said with a laugh.  “She figured it out and I just didn’t lie to her.”

“Why?”

“Didn’t think it’d be right for me to lie to her anymore, not when I’ve trusted with her so much else.  What’s one other secret?” Peter said.  Of course, knowing that he was Spider-Man was a very different secret than her just knowing about his PTSD and what happened with Uncle Ben.  Not that she would ever do this, but it was a secret that, when put in the wrong hands, could get Peter really hurt.  Telling her about his identity required quite a bit of trust, especially if they broke up.  _That_ wasn’t something Peter considered, but it wasn’t something Peter was scared of, either.  Even if they did break up, MJ wasn’t the kind of petty person to go around screaming his secrets. 

“She seems to know a lot about you,” Stephen said.

Peter shrugged.  “I suppose.”

Dr. Strange frowned.  “No.  Not ‘I suppose.’  It’s true.  She knows about your secret identity, the truth about what happened with Uncle Ben, secrets that you had a hard time telling even me or Tony.  Now, I’m not saying that’s a bad thing.  It’s good to have a strong enough relationship where you feel comfortable sharing parts of your life that make you incredibly vulnerable.  Do you feel comfortable knowing how vulnerable telling her your secrets makes you?”

It wasn’t a perspective Peter had thought about before but it didn’t matter.  “Yeah.  Of course.  I mean, it’s MJ.”

“I’m assuming you spend a lot of time with her, too,” Dr. Strange said. 

“Yeah,” Peter said.  “We’re with each other all the time at school.  Then we have practice for decathlon on Tuesday and Thursday and captain’s meetings every Friday.  We hang out on the weekends, so yeah.  She’s around all the time.”

“But you’re still maintaining a strong relationship with other people?  Ned Leeds?  Your life is balanced?” Dr. Strange asked.

“If you’re asking if I still have other friends, I do,” Peter said.  “It’s just because we have competition season coming up for decathlon that MJ and I have been around each other more often.  There’s a lot of stuff that we need to do to get the team ready.  Plus, we have to study everything on our own so that we can actually qualify for the competing team ourselves.”

“And this decathlon team isn’t stressing you out too much?” Dr. Strange asked.  “You’re still able to get your homework done, continue to go on rounds whenever necessary and get a healthy amount of sleep?”

Peter bit his lip.  He’d be lying if he said that decathlon wasn’t stressing him out a little bit.  March was rapidly approaching, which meant that qualifiers would be in a month.  Tomorrow at practice, Mr. Harrington was supposed to administer a practice test that would determine whether or not someone made the competing team.  As MJ explained at the beginning of the year, they couldn’t automatically be rewarded spots so they also had to take the practice test.  It wasn’t that Peter didn’t know the information because he did.  He knew STEM inside and out, every aspect of every weird topic the decathlon board came up with.  He just worried that something would go wrong, that same feeling he got whenever Peter was about to take a final exam or an AP test.  Peter only recently developed testing anxiety, which was a huge hit on his self-esteem considering that Peter used to really take pride in his schoolwork.

“Peter?” Dr. Strange said.

“Yeah?”

“You haven’t answered my question and I don’t really like to be kept waiting,” Dr. Strange said, frowning.

Peter grimaced.  “Sorry.  Got lost in thought.”  He cleared his throat and said, “I do have less time on my hands.  It’s sometimes difficult keeping everything balanced, but I’m managing.

Thanks to May and MJ, of course.  Being captain of the STEM team, Peter was responsible for coming up with lesson plans, giving Mr. Harrington personal recommendations, working one-on-one with some of the team members (getting to work with Flash was just such a joy).  Peter expected these tasks so he had prepared for them pretty well.  What Peter wasn’t prepared for was all the paperwork and red-tape kind of stuff that came with being captain.  Practice tests that needed to be graded, forms that needed to be filled out and sent to the national board by certain deadlines, fees that needed to be collected.  The thought of handling money and making sure that the team was kept intact was daunting for Peter.  MJ knew that and she didn’t want to scare Peter away from being captain, so she took on most of their shared responsibilities.  It was hard on her and Peter hated not helping but he told himself it was for the better.  As for May, she kept Peter focused, helped craft schedules that made it easier to balance school and decathlon and sleep and Spider-Man.  These past couple of weeks were, though a handful at times, all together manageable.  Peter didn’t _need_ to take the weight of the world on his shoulders.  He wasn’t alone.  

“Good,” Dr. Strange said.  “What about this weekend?  What do you have planned?”

Peter smiled because he really was excited for this weekend.  “It’s MJ’s birthday tomorrow so I got a few people together and we’re going to throw her a surprise party Friday after our captain’s meeting.”  Peter had put plenty of planning into her birthday; he really wanted to do something nice for her after everything she’s done for him.  While he and MJ have their captain’s meeting, Ned, Sally, Abraham and a few others were supposed to be setting up Peter’s apartment for her surprise party.  He wasn’t sure how often MJ celebrated her birthday and he for sure knew that she wasn’t all that interested in having a big party, but she was turning sixteen.  Supposedly, her father was taking her to get her drivers licenses this weekend and, after how stressed MJ is with planning decathlon practices and how supportive she’s been with Peter, he wanted to do something nice for her.

“That should be fun,” Dr. Strange said. 

Peter nodded.  “Yeah.  I’m excited.  Plus, Ned and Sally are setting most of it up so I don’t have to worry about that.  It’s a no gifts party, so that should eliminate people asking me what she likes.”  Despite her not knowing about the surprise party, she adamantly told Peter for no gifts.  If Peter had a million different people asking for gift advice, MJ would for sure figure out what he was planning. 

Dr. Strange smiled.  “I’m glad you’re excited.  Are you getting her a gift?”

“Of course,” Peter said.  “She likes to paint so I’m getting some art supplies.  Nothing special.”

“Even though she asked for no gifts?” Dr. Strange said.

Peter shrugged.  “When she opens the gift, I’m sure she won’t mind,” Peter said.  At the very least, MJ always wore the bracelet Peter gave her for Christmas so she wasn’t upset after they agreed no presents then.  Plus, she was always complaining about not having the time (or spare money) to buy nice art supplies.

“I’m sure,” Dr. Strange said, though his tone wasn’t sarcastic in the least bit.  He glanced at the clock.  “If there isn’t anything else you’d like to talk about, I suppose we can end a little bit early.  It seems you have plenty of things on your plate anyway.”

“Sweet,” Peter said.  He got up from his seat, leaning forward to shake Dr. Strange’s hand.  “I’ll see you next Wednesday, then?”

Dr. Strange escorted Peter down the flight of stairs where May was waiting.  When he came down the stairs where May was the first to get up from her chair to go over and greet him.  “Did everything go alright?” she asked as she tucked a book into her purse.

Peter nodded.  “Yeah.  Just like normal,” Peter said; it wasn’t a lie. 

Peter and May stopped by the grocery store to pick up the birthday cake they ordered for MJ’s surprise party.  It was her favorite flavor, chocolate cake, and written in red frosting (one of her favorite colors) were the words _Happy Birthday MJ._ They picked up some snacks and soda as well before going back to the apartment where Peter got a head start on his homework for the week.  He was feeling pretty motivated right now, his plans for that evening a good way to keep himself focused.  Peter had this crazy idea the other night on rounds that he would show up to MJ’s house at midnight to be the first person to wish her happy birthday.  He had no idea if she would be awake or if she would be mad that Peter woke her up.  Despite the nagging in the back of his head that kept telling Peter something _might_ go wrong, it wasn’t going to stop Peter.

He went through rounds quickly.  With Karen around, it made Peter doing his job easier, finding crime more effectively or alerting the cops if there were multiple crimes happening.  He timed his night perfectly, too.  Peter started in his neighborhood, headed toward downtown Queens and then made his way to MJ’s neighborhood where he was just a couple blocks away from her house pretty close to midnight. 

He was feeling good with his plan all the way up to when he dangled himself ( _upside_ , by the way because that was a brilliant idea) and knocked on her window.  At that point, Peter’s mind started to take over.  She had no idea he was coming.  What if her dad saw him?  Peter knew how strict Mr. Jones was with curfew and with having people over _past_ curfew.  If he found out that Peter was sneaking over late that night, Mr. Jones was going to be so pissed.  The sheer thought of getting MJ in trouble over wanting to surprise her made Peter seriously doubt if this was a good idea.  He was tempted to get onto her rooftop and wait MJ figured that she was just hearing things.  Only, Peter didn’t act that fast.

Her windows rattled a little bit until it swung open and MJ was suddenly face to face with an upside-down Spider-Man.  Just looking at her appearance it was hard to tell if Peter had woken her up: she had on her pajama shirt but was wearing leggings instead of her sleep shorts.  Her hair, like usual, was pulled into a loose bun.  Unlike that groggy, dazed look people who are abruptly woken up normally have, MJ looked nothing short of just confused.  She stared at the upside-down Peter for a long second before smiling.  Her expression was warm and happy and pleased.  “What are you doing here?”

“I wanted to wish you happy birthday,” Peter said. 

She laughed.  “I guess it is my birthday, isn’t it?  This is definitely a surprise I wasn’t expecting.”  MJ leaned forward, as though she about to grab hold of Peter and help him into her bedroom, only she made a move toward his mask.  She pulled the mask open just slightly so that his lips and lower cheeks were exposed.  Then, stretching far out and pulling his body toward him, MJ pressed her lips against his.  They’ve kissed before but nothing like this.  It was a little awkward at first, trying to adjust to the fact that they weren’t exactly within good kissing distance and the fact that Peter was upside down but the longer the kiss went, the deeper it got.  The more intense.  The more passionate, but still sweet.  When MJ finally broke it off, she smiled.  “Never done anything like that before, have you?”

Peter grinned.  “No.  No, I have not.”   

“You want to come inside for a little bit?” MJ offered.  “You don’t have to stay for that long since it’s a Wednesday — technically, Thursday night, if you don’t want.”

 _God,_ he wanted to stay.  He could still feel the remnants of her lips pressed against his own. “Yeah,” Peter said.  “Just… give me a second.”

“Do you need any help?” MJ offered, laughing.

“No.  No, I’m good,” Peter said.

He got a web stuck to the top of her open window before swinging himself around and landing carefully (and, hopefully, quietly) onto the floor of her room.  Judging by the fact that her bedside lamp and dangly lights were still on, not to mention her desk was covered with papers and drawing pencils, it was obvious that Peter didn’t wake her up.  Before Peter even managed to take a step over to MJ’s desk, he could feel her hands wrapping around his own, turning him around so that they were face-to-face.  She lifted the mask off, tossing it aside.  Peter’s face was suddenly becoming very hot so the mask being pulled off felt refreshing.  MJ ran her fingers through Peter’s ragged, mused hair before leaning over to press her lips against his.  When she pulled away, she whispered over into Peter’s ear, “Thanks for coming over tonight.” 

It wasn’t by any means flirtatious or even remotely seductive, but it sent a shiver down Peter’s back.  “Shit… yeah, totally.  It was my pleasure,” Peter stammered.  She smiled.  Keeping hold of Peter’s hands, she led him over to her desk where she leaned against it.  From there, MJ wrapped her hands around Peter’s neck, running her lips up and down his jawline and down his neck.  The way she felt against him was _maddening_ and the tight fit of the spandex suit was becoming awfully uncomfortable.  He felt a little bit more daring, confident with himself.  His fingers moved from her hips, trailing up further and further, grabbing and rubbing and twisting and —

Something happened in the midst of — whatever the hell they were doing.  Her pencil jars and sketchbooks went tumbling onto the ground, clattering and spilling all over her ground.  Peter reluctantly pulled away to look at the mess on the ground.  MJ helped herself off her desk, laughing.  The two bent over to pick up her art supplies.  He grabbed for the sketchbook, which had fallen open to one of her drawings.  Maybe he was being nosy looking through her sketchbook but it was wide open and _beautiful_.  The drawing that was the sketchbook had opened to looked suddenly very familiar to Peter.  Judging by the high-rise buildings, the busy streets, the amazing view of the moon and the sky, Peter figured it was the view from the hotel in Queens.  And streaking through the center of the photograph was Spider-Man — _Peter._ Shedrew the Iron-Spider suit with a perfect replica of the Spider-Man emblem in the center of his chest.  Other than his suit being covered with splashes of red and gold, the rest of the drawing was black and white, streaks of pencil blended together in beautiful shadows.

MJ glanced at the drawing, face going red.  “Oh.  Yeah, that was just some sketch I was working on.”

“It’s beautiful,” Peter said.  “I mean, this is really, _really_ good.  I bet you could sell this and make a lot of money.” 

MJ rolled her eyes.  “I’m sure I could.  Or maybe it could just be something for you and me.  Our little secret,” she whispered.  Again, the quiet, intense tone of voice made Peter’s head go crazy.  “I, uh, I went back to the top of the hotel a couple of times and sketched this out.  You weren’t in it, originally.”

Peter made a fake attempt to look offended.  “Wow.  That’s cruel.”

She chuckled.  “If it means anything, after I finished drawing my first draft, I realized that Spider-Man, the person responsible for showing me this view, should be in it.  Do you how many news articles of Spider-Man I had to look at so the suit so looked accurate?”

“A lot,” Peter said.  “Do you mind sending me some of those links?  I like to read about myself.”

“Of course you do,” she said.  “You want to see something else?  It’s kind of a rough sketch but…”  MJ flipped through a few pages of her sketchbook before opening up about mid-way through and showed Peter the page.  He half-expected it to be a picture of himself but it wasn’t.  It was May, a mid-way smile on her face, pieces of curly hair swirled around her face, cheeks slightly flushed.  Peter recognized the picture of her.  Last Christmas, May forced Peter into doing a photoshoot at Central Park.  All Peter remembered was being miserable and cold but May loved it.  Got new sweaters and a professional photographer and everything.  This photo has been sitting on Peter’s desk ever since she got them printed.  “Maybe it’s a little creepy but, I thought it’d make a nice photo.  If I were to ever put in a show, I’d probably call it, ‘ _True Happiness_ ’ or something sappy like that.  It’s not creepy, is it?”

Peter smiled.  “No.  I, uh, I think it’s beautiful.  Are you going to give this one to me or are you going to keep for yourself?”

MJ laughed.  “Now _that_ would be creepy.”  She closed the sketchbook.  “I don’t know.  I just saw the picture and thought it would make a good drawing.  Maybe I can sell it to you and you can give it to her for her birthday or something.”

“That’d be cool,” Peter said.

He watched MJ clean up her desk quickly yet methodically.  When she was finished, MJ turned the lamp off before turning to look at Peter.  MJ was never one to not be straightforward with Peter when something was on her mind.  One look at the coy smirk on MJ’s face, he knew what she was thinking.  “You want to continue where we left off… over there?” 

That coy look at was gone.  Her meaning was clear, overt even and it made Peter’s heart race.  “Yeah.  Yeah,” he stammered.  He grabbed hold of MJ, leaning forward to give her an eager kiss. 

* * *

Peter woke up Friday morning (in his own room at his own apartment, to clarify), feeling exhausted yet content.  He radiated positivity, eagerly getting dressed for school, pouring coffee into his thermos and hurrying to school.  Maybe it was the ton of coffee he had, or the fact that he was in a good mood, but Peter actually enjoyed going to school that day.  He wasn’t stressed over forgetting some assignment and he actually paid attention.  He met up with Sally and Ned before the captain’s meeting to go over their plan for tonight: May and Peter already got the decorations and food; all Sally, Ned and Abraham had to do was blow up some balloons, put up a banner, heat up the food for tacos and then set out the chips and drinks.  Peter trusted Sally and Ned to make sure MJ’s party goes smoothly so he was surprisingly unworried for the party tonight.

“You and Ned finished gazing into each other’s eyes?” MJ asked.

Peter rolled his eyes.  “I’ll see you guys later,” Peter said.

The captain’s meeting that night went pretty quickly.  Now that competition season was coming up, it was a lot of going through old lessons and refreshing and quizzing the team constantly.  Mr. Harrington was making the final decisions for who should be on the competing team so Peter and MJ didn’t need to worry about that.  Today, they created forms and schedules for practices for the competing team before coming up with questions for a jeopardy game they were going to play at next Thursday’s practice.  When they were finished, Peter’s heart was beating so fast, overthinking every little thing that could happen on the way back to his apartment.  While MJ was preoccupied with gathering books out of her locker, Peter took out his cell phone and texted Ned: << _Just finished.  On our way to my place.  Text you when we’re close >>.  _Peter and MJ walked lazily back to his place in no absolute rush.

“Did your dad do anything for your birthday this morning?” Peter asked.

MJ shook her head.  “Not really.  He had to get up to work this morning,” she said.  She was quiet than usual, but Peter just assumed she was tired (they were up pretty late last night).  “That’s alright, though.  It just means he’ll go to sleep earlier, which means he won’t be bothering me late at night.”  She winked. 

Peter grinned.  “I don’t know.  I wasn’t too impressed last night.”

“Oh please,” MJ scoffed.  “If anything, _I_ wasn’t impressed.”

“Whatever, _Michelle_ ,” Peter sneered.  His apartment was within eyesight so he texted his friends to let them know, hopefully without MJ noticing.  As he reached the stairs leading to his apartment, Peter took her hand and they walked up to his apartment in comfortable silence.  “So, I was thinking maybe I could make you tacos tonight.  You like tacos?” Peter asked.  He was speaking louder than usual so that his friends inside could hear him and be sure to hide.

“Yeah.  I mean, I think I’d prefer if May cooked it,” MJ said, giving him a teasing grin.  She followed Peter into his apartment and then —

The lights to Peter’s apartment flicked on and his friends jumped out.  “HAPPY BIRTHDAY!”  his friends cried out.  Ned, Sally and Abraham came bursting out from behind Peter’s kitchen counter; Gwen and Betty emerged from behind the curtains; Isabella and Cindy sprung from behind his living room couches; hidden underneath the table was Jordan and James, two guys from the chess team.  Everything was set up exactly how Peter imagined with the birthday cake as well as the vast display of foods sitting on his table.  Hung up on the wall behind the table was a handwritten banner that read, ‘ _Happy 16 th Birthday MJ’.  _Though it was small, nothing too over the top, Peter could tell MJ was both surprised and happy.  She jumped back at first, but she gathered her bearings hastily and grinned.    

Her friends swarmed around MJ, pulling her into hugs left and right.  MJ was always introverted and never one for that much physical contact, so Peter could tell she was a little overwhelmed.  He thought going to spare her some sanity, get the festivities for the party started but he kept himself from doing that.  Even though she was getting more attention that she would have liked, she looked _peaceful_ , happy even.  At the beginning of year, Peter could still remember how she looked down on Peter and Ned, shunning off forming any personal bonds with anyone at high school ( _“I’m an old soul, no one understands me”_ she would say _)._ Now, she was so comfortable with such a large group of people. 

“Who planned all this?” MJ asked.  Everyone pointed to Peter, and she smirked.  “I should’ve known you were acting strange all day.”

“You mean Michelle ‘I’m more observant than everyone in high school’ Jones didn’t see this coming?” Peter joked, going over to pull her into a one-armed hugged.  “You told me you didn’t have any plans for your birthday so I thought it’d be nice to surprise you.”

She smiled.  “No.  This is good.  I guess you can keep a secret,” she said, winking. 

The two enjoyed their little secret to themselves before focusing back on their friends.  Gwen took control of the music, pulling her cell phone and auxiliary cord, which she could hook up to the small speaker set Peter found and refurbished (he didn’t steal it — he _found_ it).  She played some music in the background quietly while everyone else dished out their food.  Peter wasn’t kidding about having tacos tonight, either.  In the oven were pans of meat, rice and beans and in the fridge were cut and diced vegetables.  Peter set out the necessary ingredients for people to begin building their tacos.  Once everyone had their tacos ready, everyone went to sit in the living room, cups of soda and water set beside filled plates.  At first, everyone was pretty distracted with eating but when Gwen brought up the prospect of MJ driving, the conversation shifted.  Laughter filled the air.

“Am I the only person who legitimately can’t picture Peter driving?  Come on.  He’s kind of a spaz,” Gwen said.  She was just getting on Peter right now and wasn’t doing anything to be cruel to Peter, so there was no harm.  Peter could tell she was being careful with how far she was taking her joke, though, gauging his reaction and deciding whether or not to push the subject.

“I’m pretty sure Peter has some mad reflexes,” Ned argued. 

“I think I’m going to have to side with Ned on this one,” Peter said.  “I just have good instincts.”  That was another perk of the spider-senses.  Whenever Peter practiced driving with May, he would just _know_ if something was off.  If a taxi was weaving in and out of traffic and was trying to pass Peter, he was pretty good at registering the problem and getting out of the way.  Or if Peter was trying to park, he could _feel_ when he was about to clip a car trying to park.  The fact of the matter is, Peter was probably a better driver than everyone in this room.

Gwen laughed.  “That true, MJ?”

MJ shrugged.  “I personally wouldn’t get into a car with Peter as the driver, but I’m sure I wouldn’t get hurt under his watch.”  She was very matter-a-fact with the way she spoke about Peter, but then again, Peter expected nothing less from her. 

“Whatever,” Peter said with a grin. 

Her birthday, though simple, was great, MJ’s closest friends around her, enough great food to go around.  MJ has had her fair share of going to wild parties and she made her own fun there, but this party was different.  She was relaxed, unguarded, free to be herself, to make jokes.

May came home a couple hours after the party started, just in time for when Peter was about to serve the chocolate cake.  It wasn’t anything fancy.  Plain chocolate and some cursive writing.  With May’s help, Peter set out sixteen pink and white candles and lit them up.  MJ sat at the kitchen table while his friends grouped together, singing _Happy Birthday_ loudly as May brought out the cake.  When they finished, Peter divvied up pieces of cake onto paper plates while May scooped out vanilla ice cream.  After the cake and ice cream were practically all eaten, the party was quickly starting to wind down.  There weren’t any gifts besides a couple of cards so that wasn’t there to take up much time, and Peter and May didn’t exactly own a monopoly of video games or wii games.  That was a bust, too.  They played a few rounds of _Life, Uno_ and _Clue_ , games which got too competitive too quickly.  The party disbanded around eight after MJ won another round of _Clue_. 

“I don’t know how you expect to keep your friends if you continue to kick our asses at these games,” Peter said when Ned finally left Peter’s apartment.  He and MJ were probably going to watch a movie after they clean up his kitchen.  His friends were pretty clean so there were just some paper plates from the living room he had to clean up, as well as leftover food that needed to be put away.

“Thanks for doing this for me,” MJ said.

“I really can’t believe you didn’t see this coming,” Peter said.

She leaned over to punch Peter in the arm.  “Whatever.  I figured out you were Spider-Man.  I think missing out on a birthday party shouldn’t be that big of a deal.”

Peter laughed.  “I guess you’re right about that.”  Peter changed the direction of the conversation.  “I have something for you,” Peter said.  He took the paper plates out of MJ’s hands to stuff it into one of the trash bags before hurrying to his room and pulling out the wrapped-up box for MJ.  Because she requested for a gift-free birthday, Peter decided to wait until everyone else was gone to give her a present.  He joined her at his couch.  “I wanted to wait until everyone else was gone.”

When she saw the present, she frowned.  “I thought I said I didn’t want any presents this year.”

Peter grinned.  “Sorry,” he said.  “Come on.  Just open it up.”

She frowned but didn’t argue.  She took the box from Peter’s hand before ripping the red wrapping paper off.  It was an art kit Peter assembled a few days ago.  He wasn’t much of an artist so he wasn’t really sure what she would need so he had to get help from two different sales associates to put together everything in the box: a sketchbook, these charcoal art pencils, different types of weird looking erasers, a few bottles of paint (her favorite colors consisting of black, shades of blue, peach) and pack of paint brushes.  Again, he wasn’t sure of the quality of these paint brushes but he hoped she wouldn’t be too picky.  “Wow…” she said.  She picked up the sketchbook, flipping through the empty pages.  “This is…”  She stopped herself.

Peter frowned.  He figured MJ would be happy and, while she wasn’t one to be overtly emotional about anything, he at least expected a smile.  “Everything alright?”

“Um, yeah,” she muttered, fingers brushing against the paint brushes.  Just the way that she was more interested at looking at the contents in the box as opposed to addressing Peter, he knew something was wrong.  A second later, his thoughts were confirmed.  Her bottom lip trembled as she tried to muster up the ability to give Peter a watery smile.  He didn’t understand what was wrong.  She seemed so happy just a couple minutes ago, and here she is with the appearance of someone who was about to fall apart. 

“What’s wrong?” Peter asked.  He threw the wrapping paper onto the ground and tentatively scooted closer to MJ.  “I’m sorry.  I really didn’t realize you didn’t want a present that badly.”

She looked away from Peter, dabbing a couple tears away.  “It’s — it’s everything that I could have wanted.  It’s just I don’t really do artwork anymore.  God, I should have told you or something before.  I probably should have known that you would have gotten me a gift.”

Peter raised his eyebrows.  “What do you mean you’re not doing art anymore?  You had those sketches you showed me last night.  You love painting.”

“ _Loved,”_ She corrected, but that was a lie.  “Really.  It’s nothing.”

It wasn’t nothing, and it didn’t take a rocket scientist to see that.  Something was really bugging her, _hurting_ her, tearing her up inside and all Peter wanted to do was figure out what it was.  “Come on, MJ.  You can tell me anything,” he said.  That was clichéd, but she’s taken care of him so many times that it should be okay for the tables to turn once in a while.  “Seriously.  You know you can trust me.”

MJ stared up at him.  He could see her thoughts formulating, hesitations slipping away, barriers that still sometimes come in between them disappearing.  Her eyes softened just slightly, but it rapidly filled with tears.  “My dad, uh, he doesn’t really like my artwork.”  Peter could tell how desperate she was to put up a façade of nonchalance, but her eyes told the truth.  She was hurt and confused and lost.  MJ got up from the couch, going over to Peter’s counter.  “Do you want me to put the birthday cake on a separate plate?  I’m not sure if it’s going to fit in your fridge if you leave it on the platter.”

Peter stood up, quick to get to MJ’s side.  He pulled her hands away from the cake, forcing her to face him.  She was quietly weeping.  Tears drizzled down the side of her cheek and down her neck.  Crying like she’s never cried before, not since that night in January when she got off the phone.  Peter’s obsessive, irrational self surfaced for just a brief moment.  There were a million questions he wanted to ask her, an urge in himself to figure out what the hell happened between her and father.  But that wasn’t what she needed right now.  Peter kept silent as he engulfed her in his arms.  Whenever Peter hugged her like this, his arms completely wrapped around her, tucking her head into his chest, it made MJ feel so incredibly small.  She was about his height and she always stood tall and strong but not now.  She _needed_ him the way Peter needed her, and that was okay. 

“I’m sorry,” MJ hiccupped.  Her eyes were puffy and swollen.  “You were just trying to plan a good day for me, and I—”

“Shhhh,” Peter said, leaning forward to kiss her.  “It’s okay.  Come on, it’s not like I haven’t had a meltdown in front of you before.

She barely managed a laugh.  “You had a good excuse.”

Peter frowned, but he didn’t push the subject as much as he should have.  They moved back to the kitchen table.  “What happened?” he asked when she had calmed down a bit more.  She didn’t answer at first.

 “I’m okay,” she said.

As much as Peter cared about her, sometimes MJ being so stubborn really pissed him off.  “No.  _You’re not_ , and I’m not going to let you leave this place without telling me what’s going on.  I trusted you enough to tell you about Uncle Ben.  This relationship won’t work if you don’t have that same level of trust in me.”

Okay.  Peter will admit that was probably uncalled for and definitely the wrong place to take the conversation.  MJ stood up from the couch, obviously pissed.  “Bringing up Uncle Ben was a _shitty_ move, Parker.  If you really cared about me, you wouldn’t force me to tell you something I’m not comfortable sharing with you.”

 She had a point, but Peter also knew that if he was really upset about something, MJ wouldn’t let it side.  He decided to approach the subject in a matter, more sensible way.  “MJ, listen to me.  I’m not here to judge you or your family.  I just want to make sure that you’re okay.  You’ve done so much to help me.  _Please_ , let me do the same for you.”

At first, MJ didn’t say anything.  She sighed.  “It’s not as big of a deal as it sounds.  I know I’m upset about it but it’s just… obviously, I love to paint but my dad had his reasons for not loving it.  It’s time-consuming, I got paint all over my carpet in my room, there’s canvases everywhere in the garage.  Really, it was kind of burden.”  Though it obvious how much MJ was trying to make excuses for her father, Peter could see through her.  Her eyes, wide with hurt, was enough to show that she didn’t _understand_ why her father would say something like that.  “Don’t judge my dad for what happened,” she said, as though she could understand what Peter was thinking.

Peter shook his head.  “I’m not.  I just want to know what’s going on.”

“I think he was just upset.  My dad forgot some files this morning so he drove into our garage too fast.  He hit a paint can.  Got it all over his front bumper,” MJ explained.  Compared to the way she acted when their friends were over, it felt like all that happiness had slipped away.  Or like she had pretended to happy for the sake of the crowd over at Peter’s house and was now too exhausted to keep up the façade _._ “It doesn’t really matter, Peter.  I wasn’t even that good.”

What should he say to that?  _You_ are _that good._ If he said that, she would just get upset because she wasn’t allowed (maybe that was describing it too strongly but he didn’t have a better word for it) to keep painting.  _Your dad shouldn’t control what you do to make you happy._ That would make her upset too.  Her dad was, in a positive, overprotective of MJ and, in a negative way, pretty controlling of MJ.  For someone who was ‘screw mainstream normality and be a rebel’ at school, she was pretty submissive to her farther.  Rules were rules and they couldn’t be broken.  Peter really couldn’t think of a good way to make her feel better, but maybe that was just it.  Maybe he _shouldn’t_ be the one to try and fix her problems.  When Peter was going through a lot, MJ never overreacted by going to a million different therapists and trying to offer a million different ways to help him.  She was just _there_.  Let _him_ talk when he wanted.

“What can I do?” Peter finally asked once she calmed down a little bit. 

MJ stared up at Peter.  “I don’t know,” she finally said.  “It’ll probably blow over in a couple of days.  I just have to make sure he doesn’t see any of my stuff for the next couple of days.  Thanks for asking.”

“You’ve done plenty for me,” Peter said.  “If you want, I can keep hold of some of your stuff until this blows over.  May probably wouldn’t mind driving over to bring pick up canvases or whatever.”

She sniffled.  “He already got rid of most of it, but thanks, though.”

Peter frowned.  “Wait, you don’t mean—…”

“I tend to store a lot of my canvases in the garage since it takes up too much space in my room.  It must have been in the way like it normally is, so he put in his car.  Probably got rid of it.  I’m not sure.  It’s really not that big of the deal.  I hid my sketchbooks away when I realized he was in a fit, so I still have the original drawings.”  Peter must have looked pretty upset by this new information because MJ continued to rattle on, _defend_ what her dad on done.  “I lost a couple of finished projects but I’m sure I can, uh, I can recreate them.”

“I’m sorry…” Peter attempted.  _Sorry_ wasn’t going to bring her art back, but what else is there to say?  She would be pissed he bad-talked her dad and that wasn’t a road Peter was willing to go down.  “Do you want me to keep this gift for the time being?”

MJ nodded.  She attempted at a weak smile, but Peter could see through it.  “That’d be great.”

Peter gathered the gift from her, setting it onto the kitchen table.  “Do you want to watch a movie?  Or do you want to head home?”

“Let’s watch a movie,” MJ said. 

She wrapped her hand in Peter’s, leading him over to his couch and taking the remote.  It looked like she needed something to cheer her up, so they picked a comedy, the kind that has a happy ending and where the biggest conflict isn’t really all that heart-wrenching of an issue.  As the opening credits began, MJ skipped over the in between, laying her head against Peter’s shoulders and taking his hand in hers.  She was still reeling with pain.  Peter knew it.  Recognized that broken expression on her face because he’s seen it on himself plenty of times.  What made it worse was that he didn’t know how to help.

The next morning, all Peter could think about was MJ.  She left his place pretty dejected and who knows what would happen when she went back home.  Maybe her father didn’t actually throw away her artwork?  He was probably just trying to teach her lesson.  Sometimes if Peter left his coat lying around on the ground of the living room, May would hide it for a couple of days to teach Peter a lesson.  It would make sense if her dad was doing something like that, otherwise, how else could Peter explain ruining something she worked so hard on?

He wasn’t going to ask her, that’s for sure.  MJ had her driver’s test early that Saturday morning.  Their plan was for her to (hopefully) pass her test and then the two of them would go out to breakfast at one of MJ’s favorite breakfast café.  She called him at 9:00, dropping the good news.  Supposedly, MJ didn’t get all that excited about winning nationals for decathlon so Peter wasn’t that surprised when she seemed pretty neutral about getting her licenses.  Even though she got her licenses, they decided against driving the café.  It was simpler and cheaper, considering the breakfast place was valet parking only.  Saving $5 on valet parking didn’t do much, considering how overpriced the café was (it was times like this, Peter wished the Stark Internship was real and paid for).

“You don’t have to pay for me,” MJ said when Peter finished writing the tip for the server and signing the restaurant receipt.   

Peter smiled.  “Relax.  It’s your birthday present.  Besides, I buy you food and you drive me around for free.”

She rolled her eyes.  “I’m pretty sure my dad is only going to let me drive Kevin around.”

Peter frowned.  The way she casually brought up her father made it seem like nothing happened yesterday.  Should he bring it up or would that just upset her?  “At least you have independence now.  You can go and pick up the food on your way over to my apartment now.”

“Sure, sure.  It’s just hard to drive yourself from place to place when you don’t have a car,” MJ said.  “My dad let me have the car this morning but I’m pretty sure this is the last time.”

“Oh.  Well, I guess if he has a job he has to go to every day, he’d probably give himself priority,” Peter said.

“Yeah, totally,” MJ said.  They were at Peter’s apartment now, her dad’s Subaru parked out front.  Evidently, MJ was telling the truth about her father driving into a bottle of paint.  There wasn’t a lot so either MJ or her father had spent a decent amount of time trying to clean it up but if Peter looked close enough, he could see streaks of red on the bumper.

“I guess you got most of the paint out,” Peter said.  That was pretty daring bringing up the situation straight up the way he did with MJ, but she was tough on Peter, doing everything to make sure that he was okay and Peter was going to do the same for her.

Judging by MJ’s expression, she didn’t look all that upset, at least about Peter bringing it up.  “Oh… yeah.  My dad and I talked about it.  He was just a little upset, stressful week at work.  He still made me scrub the paint off but that’s okay.  I’m just glad I used paint that you could scrub off.”

“Are you still walking to work?” Peter asked.

MJ nodded.  “Normally, yeah.  I should probably get home.  Kevin should be getting up pretty soon and my dad will want me to home by then,” she said.  She leaned forward to kiss Peter’s cheek, “I’ll call you sometime tonight.”

“Okay.  Bye, MJ…” Peter said as he watched MJ get into her dad’s car and drive away.

That was the last time they ever discussed what happened with her dad.  When they went back to school the following Monday, she was back to her normal self: sarcastic, witty, teasing.  He wasn’t sure what happened, but he figured his guess about MJ and her father making up and figuring everything out must have been true; normally MJ walked to school so when Peter saw her get dropped off by her father, it must have been a good sign.  She was in a good mode on Tuesday as well, actually going with the team to the convenient store before practice.  That day, Mr. Harrington also announced who would be on the competing team: Peter, Gwen and Flash for STEM; MJ, Ned and Cindy for Humanities.  Peter and MJ both had no idea who was going to be on the competing team so when Peter heard Flash’s name, he was pretty surprised.

“Wow.  And I hear everyone thinks Peter Parker is better than me,” Flash said, laughing.

“Good thing Liz left otherwise you never would have been given a spot,” MJ muttered under her breath.  Mr. Harrington already went through the ‘everyone did a good job but we could only pick so many people’ speech.  People were upset, especially Betty and Abraham, who were sure that they were going to be put on the competing team but everyone was friends so, at the very least, no one was too upset.  “For those who aren’t on the competing team, you still need to come to practice on Tuesday and Thursday’s because you never know what’s going to happen—”

“ _Peter_ ,” Flash said through a fake cough.

MJ ignored Flash.  “Flash, try not to let being put on the competing team go to head.  We can still kick people off the competing team.

“Say what you want about me, MJ, but I’d never screw the team over at a competition,” Flash said.  It was hard to tell whether or not Flash was just trying to get under Peter’s skin because Flash _sounded_ dead serious.  Peter could feel eyes on him, as though the team was waiting for his quippy response.  Only, Peter didn’t have any.  He was still reeling over Flash’s comment, and the fact that Flash had a point made it all the more worse. 

Fortunately for Peter, MJ was there for the rescue.  “Things happened at the beginning of the year, but that’s over.  He’s never missed practice, he scored ten points higher than you on the exam we took a couple days ago and even after missing nationals at the beginning of this year, the team _still_ voted him captain over you.  He knew he was wrong for what happened at the beginning of the year and he’s been working to redeem himself.  Say what _you_ want about Peter, but at least _he_ understands when he’s done something wrong.  Get your ass off your high horse and start treating Peter like he’s a teammate otherwise you’re off the team.”  Peter always knew MJ had a no-bullshit policy when it came to Flash Thompson but _damn_.  That was harsh even for MJ standards.  Apparently, the team shared the same sentiment because the room was silent.

Peter cleared his throat.  “Why don’t we move on?”

Mr. Harrington stared at MJ; she and Flash were still staring each other down, and it clearly looked like MJ wasn’t getting any calmer.  “I agree with Peter,” he said, getting up.  “As we were saying, those who were not picked as a part of the competing team should go to practice as alternates in case our competing changes by regionals and then nationals.  For those who _are_ on the competing team, we’ll have extra practices in the library on Wednesday.  Does that work for everyone?”

There was a quiet murmur of ‘yeah’ or ‘sure.’

After going through a few formalities, Mr. Harrington ended practice by having each member of the decathlon team write three subjects on a notecard that they think the team should cover.  MJ and Peter were responsible for looking over the notecards and coming up with a lesson plan at their captain’s meeting.  When everyone was finished, MJ gathered them up, slipped them into her backpack and the team departed.  Peter followed MJ to the front of the parking lot where they were about to part ways — she needed to get to work early that day.

“Is everything alright?” Peter asked.

MJ stopped.  “What do you mean?”

“You just got really upset at Flash and I want to make sure that you’re okay,” Peter said.

She frowned.  “Yeah.  I’m just tired of people attacking someone who won’t ever defend themselves.”  She shot Peter a reproachful look.

“You don’t need to fight my battles for me—,” Peter said.

“Obviously I do because you don’t have the backbone to do it yourself!” she snapped. 

Peter took a step back.  He knew MJ well enough to know that Flash Thompson wasn’t worthy of garnering this kind of reaction from her.  “Look MJ, I know you’re upset at your father but Flash and I weren’t the ones who destroyed your—” 

“What the _hell_ are you talking about?” MJ snapped.  Peter opened his mouth to justify himself but MJ got on his ass before he had the chance to speak.  “After everything I’ve helped you through, you think it’s okay for you to say that shit about _my_ family?  I’ve watched go through panic attack after panic attack.  Seen you take out pent-up aggression on May and Ned and Tony and _me_ but I’ve _never_ butted my nose into your business when you didn’t want me there.  How would you have liked it if I had said ‘oh Peter, you shouldn’t disappear all day just because Uncle Ben got himself killed?’  How happy would you have been then?”

Peter stared at MJ, feeling betrayed, shocked, angry and guilty all at once.  “I guess I never thought about it that way…” he muttered.

MJ’s eyes softened quickly.  “I’m sorry.  That was uncalled for.”

Peter thought it’d be best to take the conversation in a different direction.  Arguing with MJ, especially when she was this upset wasn’t going to accomplish anything.  “You’re right.  Whatever is going on between you and your father isn’t any of my business.”

“Peter—,” she said.

“I should probably get back to my apartment,” he muttered.  God, it was so cowardly pulling away from MJ like this, but he couldn’t imagine this conversation becoming any more constructive right now.  “Maybe we can talk after you get off work.”  He didn’t wait for her to respond.  

* * *

MJ and Peter have gotten in plenty of spats while they’ve been dating but nothing like what happened on Tuesday.  Both brought up subjects that were normally off-limits: Peter knew MJ was pretty defensive of her dad, no matter how intense of a parent he is; and MJ understood how deep Uncle Ben’s death affected Peter.  Peter was out of line to try and put in his two-sense about her father, but MJ was just as out of line to say what she said about Uncle Ben.  They still sat together at lunch, still worked together civilly at decathlon practice but it wasn’t hard to tell they were on thin ground.  Peter knew he should apologize, but, god, he also knew he wanted an apology in return.

“What should I do?” Peter asked May at dinner on Thursday.

“Come on.  It’s your first real fight.  I’m sure if you just invite her over to dinner and apologize to each other, you guys should be fine,” May said.  Peter didn’t exactly fill her in on the details about their fight so the magnitude of the situation wasn’t exactly obvious.

“If I apologize first, it won’t be setting a precedent that I’m _always_ the one in the wrong?” Peter asked.

She raised her eyebrows.  “I don’t know where you got that idea, Peter, but if this is actually a healthy relationship and the two of you want a relationship that isn’t just some fling, you _both_ have to take responsibility for what happened.”

“So, she should apologize, too?”

May frowned.  “If you think you did something wrong, you should apologize to MJ but, even though you think MJ did something wrong, you can’t force her to anything,” May said.  “All you can do is communicate to MJ how you were affected by what she did or say.  If she’s open-minded about the situation, she should hopefully be able to see your perspective.”

“What do you think I should do?” Peter asked again. 

“Invite her over after the captain’s meeting on Friday.  Get some take out.  Do what you guys normally would do,” May explained.  “But actually _talk_ about what happened like a responsible adult.”  

God.  _Talking._ Peter shuddered at the sheer thought, but if May said that was a good idea, he wasn’t going to disagree with her.  That night, Peter called MJ to ask about coming over at the captain’s meeting.  He was afraid he was going to have to beg for her to come over, that she was going to be too angry to even hear him out over the phone.  Only, he was wrong.  She agreed quickly, though apparently her dad was having some business party that night and he wanted MJ to come with him so it couldn’t be right after promised.  She also promised to steal some food from his business to bring over to Peter’s place.  She wasn’t overly-eager by any means, but she sounded content with the thought of spending Friday night together. 

At school the next day, Peter was trying to get a read on MJ, see if she was still angry.  It was heard to tell.  It was _always_ a little hard to tell with her, but she wasn’t acting as cold as she had been on Wednesday.  During the captain’s meeting, Peter even managed to elicit some genuine laughter from MJ.  Peter went back to his place feeling excited that night.  He jumped the gun a little bit, cleaning up the living room for their date that night well before necessary.  Deciding to do rounds early in the day, like what he did at the beginning of the year, Peter was able to kill time by helping out some Queens citizens before hurrying back to his apartment at around 8:30. 

Only, MJ was late.  Very late.  She told Peter she would be over at 9:00.  When it was 9:30, Peter thought her father just got caught up at his work party, maybe was chatting up his boss.  Once an hour passed, Peter was starting to get worried.  She wasn’t one to be late, especially not without calling or texting.  He thought it might be like the decathlon holiday party.  Peter knew he had a knack of overreacting, but when it reached 11:00, his brain started thinking of every worse scenario that might have happened.  Peter doesn’t want to assume anything is wrong but —

His phone rung.  He scrambled to get it, checking caller ID and taking a deep breath when he realized MJ was calling.  “Hey MJ.  Where are you?  Is everything alright?” Peter asked.

“Peter?”  Just the sound of her voice was enough for Peter to know that something was wrong.  Very wrong.  Her voice was shaky, not the way it sounded when Peter showed up from the cemetery and not quite like last week when she told Peter about her artwork.  It wouldn’t take a rocket scientist to hear the fear in her voice and, _god_ , that scared Peter.  “I’m so sorry.”

Peter was scrambling into his bedroom before MJ even told him what was happening.  “What’s going on?  What’s wrong?”

The next words she uttered was no louder than a soft whisper.  “There was an accident.”


	13. He is Her Father

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the response on the previous chapter!
> 
> Minor warning for brief descriptions of child abuse

_“Sometimes a change of perspective_

_is all it takes to see the light”_

_~ Dan Brown ~_

Chapter Thirteen: He is Her Father

Time stood still as the blood rushed to his ears, as his legs turned to lead.  _An accident._ That could mean a million different things.  A car accident.  She could have tripped.  Her brother could have tripped.  Someone could be _severely_ hurt.  “What?” Peter stammered when he suddenly realized he had forgotten to talk. 

“I’m okay.  A little banged up, but nothing severe.  I’ll explain to you later.  I’m at Bellevue Hospital with my dad right now,” she whispered, though her voice was still quavering.  His brain was going crazy trying to guess what happened to her.  He tried to picture MJ beat up and bruised, lying in a hospital bed.  He could feel the world spiraling away from him because MJ was hurt and there wasn’t anything he could have done about it and now he had to deal with the fall out and—, “Peter?”

“How?” he asked.  “What?  I don’t understand.”

“It was a car accident,” she whispered.  _God._ Peter took driver’s ed.  He couldn’t stop picturing all those graphic videos the instructors would show the class to scare the students into being overly-cautious drivers.  He remembered laughing at it with Ned.  _Those kinds of accidents never happen.  It’s never going to happen to me._ Jesus.  It happened to _MJ._ “Look, I can’t keep talking.  The doctors want to see me.  My dad needs to talk to me.  I have to go.”

“Right.  Of course.  Go,” Peter said.  He had to focus, be _strong_ for her.  In between trying to talk to MJ, Peter was yanking on a clean pair of jeans and digging through his closet to find a sweatshirt.

“Are you coming? I need you to come.”  She wasn’t asking.  She was _pleading._

And it made Peter’s heart break.  “I’m already dressed.  I’ll go wake up May.  We’ll hurry.” 

MJ hung up the phone, skipping goodbyes and formalities.  Peter could feel his chest closing up tight as he rushed into his kitchen.  He kept himself moving, scrambling to find a jacket and pair of shoes while May looked on from the living room.  She was dressed in her pajamas, glasses on, book in a hand and glass of red wine sitting on the counter.  “Peter?” she asked.  “Everything alright?”

“It’s — it’s MJ,” Peter barely sputtered.  He could feel himself spinning out of control.  “I — we need to…”

May got up the from the couch.  She put her hands on Peter’s shoulders and steadied him.  “Peter.  Take a breath.  I can’t understand a word you’re saying.”

Peter followed her instructions.  Taking a deep breath wasn’t enough for Peter to fully calm down, but it was enough for Peter to get a grip on the situation.  “It’s MJ.  She got in a car accident and she’s at Bellevue Hospital.”  Saying the words out loud made the situation all the more serious.  What happened dawned on Peter and he felt himself stagger.

May grabbed onto him.  “Okay, okay.  Grab my keys.  Find my purse.  I’ll get dressed.  We’ll leave in five minutes,” she said.  She was being firm with Peter, which was good because otherwise, Peter would have just stood there in the middle of the apartment in a catatonic state.  He followed her orders swiftly, gathering up everything May needed and setting it on the counter.  May emerged from her bedroom a couple minutes later, looking pretty panicked.  When they had everything they needed, May grabbed the keys to her CRV and the two of them rushed off to the parking garage.

It was supposed to be roughly a twenty-five minute drive to Bellevue Hospital from their apartment but based on the crazy way that May was driving, they would probably make it to the hospital in under twenty minutes.  The entire time Peter was overthinking the situation.  _She has to be okay._ Peter couldn’t imagine how he would react if she wasn’t.  If she was severely hurt.  Permanently even.  She wasn’t dead and, judging by the fact that she was able to call Peter, her condition probably wasn’t critical by any means.  _It isn’t that bad.  She’s going to be okay._ Even though Peter was trying to convince himself she was okay, Peter could feel himself hyperventilating.  He could feel his throat closing up as the seconds ticked by.  He knew the signs of a panic attack, and he knew that being in a car, a confided, small space, wasn’t going to help. 

“Peter?”  May knew enough about Peter’s PTSD and anxiety that this kind of high-emotion event was enough to trigger _something._ “Peter?  Honey, can you hear me?”

Engaging in a conversation with May wasn’t something of interest to Peter.  He just nodded fast and vigorously.  “Yeah… yeah,” Peter barely managed.  _You need to be okay.  MJ needs you right now.  Get out of your goddamn head_.  “I can’t breathe.”

“Okay.  Okay.  Just give me a second,” May said.  She rolled the window down and the feeling of the cool March New York air wafted through the car.  Though it wasn’t _that_ cold outside, the wind hitting Peter’s face was soothing.  He leaned his head just slightly out the window.  “You look like a dog,” May said, joking. 

Trying to lighten the mood with a joke may not be appropriate in the situation, but Peter still laughed.  “Feels good,” he barely managed.  The pain in his chest, the tightening of his throat was subsiding only slightly.  “We close?”

“It’s right down the street,” May promised.  She reached over to put her hands on Peter’s hands, which were balled up into fists.  “Just take some deep breaths.  It’ll be over soon.  You’re going to be okay.”

_He was going to be okay._ Peter and May were on the way to the hospital to see MJ.  No one was there to attack Peter.  _MJ was going to be okay._ He took in heavy, deep breaths until he managed to slow his heart rate from what felt like 200 beats per minute.  Though the early signs of a panic attack were starting to go away, that knot in his stomach persisted and continued to persist all the way up to May throwing her car into park and the two of them sprinting their way to the ER.  The two of them running inside toward the front desk obviously wasn’t well-received by the flurry of doctors trying to get from Point A to Point B or the other families waiting hear news on a loved one or relative.

Peter dialed in on Kevin sitting by himself in one of the green hospital chairs.  He was bundled up in a couple of jackets, an untouched Styrofoam cup sitting on the table next to him and his iPad next to his cup.  “Kevin!” Peter called, May and Peter running over to where MJ’s younger brother was sitting.  MJ’s younger brother jumped up from where he was sitting.  “Hey, Kev.  You alright?”

Kevin was probably too young to understand what happened, but he _was_ old enough to understand was something was wrong.  He had this panicked, confused look on his face.  “I… I don’t really know.  Some police officer picked me up from my house.  He said MJ and my dad got hurt,” Kevin muttered.  He shook his head back and forth a couple of times, hands balling up into fists.  “I don’t really know what happened.  No one wants to tell me anything.  I don’t—”

“Okay.  Okay,” May said, holding her hands up and putting it on Kevin’s shoulder.  “Peter.  Why don’t you stay here with Kevin?  I will try to figure out what’s going on.”

Peter nodded.  “Yeah.  That sounds good.”  Peter gestured toward the leather seats in the corner of the waiting room.  “Do you want to sit down?”

“I want to know what’s going on with my sister,” Kevin muttered. 

Peter bit his lip.  “We’re trying to figure it out, Kev.  Come on.”  He helped MJ’s younger brother over the chairs.  Kevin yanked his coat out from his chair and wrapped it around him, wringing his hands through the fabric nervously.  “You have your iPad with you?  You wanna play some games?” Peter offered when he realized that Kevin wasn’t getting any more relaxed. 

“Okay,” Kevin muttered.  He took out his iPad and pulled up Solitaire _._ “Have you ever played Solitaire before?”

Peter nodded.  “Yeah.  Yeah, a few times.”  He leaned over, putting his hand on Kevin’s shoulder, cautiously.  Though Kevin played the game, Peter gave him advice, pointed out moves that the kid was missing.  It wasn’t all that good of a distraction, especially since Kevin’s eyes were wandering up at the doorways and then at May, who was the first in line to speak to one of the receptionists.  When they won, Peter quickly pressed _‘Reshuffle’_ and started another game.  Peter knew how hard it was on him to not know what was going on with MJ.  He couldn’t imagine what is must be like for an eight-year-old who’s trying to understand what happened to his sister _and_ father. 

Fortunately, they didn’t need to wait for much longer.  May came hurrying over to Kevin and Peter, looking pretty freaked out.  May knew how nervous Peter felt right now and whenever Peter was nervous, she tried hard to keep herself calm.  If May looked distraught now, Peter was downright terrified to hear the news.  But he _needed_ to know what was going on.  “Did the doctors tell you anything?”

May glanced at Peter and then back at Kevin.  “They’re both going to be okay.  They only took MJ to the ER because she hit her head on the wheel and they wanted to check for head injuries.  But, she’s okay.  Nothing a little bit of rest can’t fix.”  Peter sighed in a relief.  _Genuine_ relief.  It wasn’t like all the anxiety went away but this was a start.  “Yeah.  The doctors said MJ must have taken a turn too fast or something and hit a telephone pole, but MJ and her father are pretty fuzzy on the details.”

“But they’re going to be okay?” Kevin asked.

“Of course they’re going to be okay,” May said.  “No one was hurt all that bad.  The doctors are just finishing up some routine checks before your father and sister are discharged.  There’s nothing to worry about, alright?”  She leaned over to pat Kevin on the top of his head.  “The doctors said it’s going to be a little bit before they’re released, Kev, so if you want, you could try to get some sleep.  You look pretty tired?”

It was obvious Kevin wasn’t too fond of that idea, but he didn’t argue.  Peter offered up his jacket as a blanket for Kevin, who formed a small little bed of jackets.  Kevin bundled himself up before shutting his eyes and rolling over so that his face was directed toward the wall.  Peter and May settled into the seats next to MJ’s younger brother.  Trying to pass time, waiting to hear more news about MJ and her father, to be able to _see_ MJ, was unbelievably difficult.  Peter tried playing games on his phone, though he got bored quickly and the internet was so slow he couldn’t download anything.

Peter turned to pacing, only that made May nervous. “Peter, honey, she’s going to be okay,” May said.  She reached over to put her hand on Peter’s shoulder.

“They didn’t tell you anything about how she was injured?” Peter asked.

“They can’t release patient information, especially when we’re not actually family,” May muttered.

“What time is it?” Peter asked.

May checked her watch.  “About 12:30.”

“God.  If I keep sitting here I’m going to explode,” Peter muttered.

“Then go to sleep,” May said. 

He attempted to sleep.  To clear his mind as much as possible.  To think happy thoughts that, no matter the kind of injuries she sustained, she was going to be _okay_.  The second Peter felt his mind think too much, go crazy with extra thoughts, he flushed it out and started over.  Peter attempted to use his keen senses to dial in on some of the strange sounds around, like the shuffling of feet, the clicking of keyboards, even the scratching pens.  And voices.  The voices of family members waiting in the lobby, of the doctors down the hall.  Without meaning to, Peter stumbled upon a voice that sounded familiar.  He forced himself to focus, strained to get clarity of a muffled conversation going on. 

Peter recognized the voice.  It was _MJ’s._ He was sure of it.  She must have been in one of the rooms close to the lobby, or her and her dad were talking in secret in the halls.  Either way, Peter could just barely manage to hear their conversation.  “Dad, it’s okay.  _Really,_ ” she urged.  He couldn’t see her face, but Peter could _hear_ the anxiety in her voice that he could only picture what she looked like.  “They’re discharging us.  Everything’s alright.  I’m sure I can get Peter or May to drive us home.”

“Why are they here?” her father hissed.  He wasn’t as nervous as MJ sounded.  More distraught.  _Angry_ , even _._

“Because I was supposed to hang out with Peter tonight,” MJ said, “and he worries a lot because—”

“He’s messed up in the head.  I know.  God.  Is that why you haven’t broken up with him?” Mr. Jones muttered.  Peter knew he was wrong for eavesdropping, _very wrong,_ especially when this conversation was supposed to be a private one, but _that_ hurt.  How could MJ say something like that about Peter?  _Why_ would Mr. Jones say something like that?  What did Peter do to make Mr. Jones so upset?  His brain was going off in a million different tangents that he was starting to forget the real reason why Peter as the hospital in the first place.  _For MJ._ They were distraught.  Saying things they didn’t mean.

_Right?_

“Peter has nothing to do with what happened,” MJ said.  “Look, Peter and May don’t know anything.  They’ve been sitting out there with Kevin, who’s terrified right now.”

“Kevin is fine,” Mr. Jones muttered.  “You’re lucky the hospital doesn’t suspect anything.  And I hope you’ve saved up money from your job.  You’re paying for all of this.”

Peter tore away from MJ’s room.  He _shouldn’t_ be listening in to their conversation because it was wrong and Peter wasn’t sure he could take listening to their conversation any further.  Not to mention, his brain was spinning.  The way Mr. Jones reacted wasn’t normal, was it?  Yelling at MJ?  Trash-talking their relationship?  He thought Mr. Jones liked him.  And what was that whole thing about the hospital not suspecting anything?  There was nothing to suspect.  It was just an accident.  Taking a curve too fast, losing control and hitting a pole.  No one was severely hurt.  The insurance would be able to cover the medical bills.  It wasn’t insurance fraud.  There was no reason for MJ or her father to lie unless —

Unless MJ wasn’t the one driving.  Unless her father, who was probably drunk from his business party, got behind the wheel while MJ was in the passenger seat and then drove into the telephone pole.  It would make sense.  _The hospital doesn’t suspect anything.  Peter and May don’t know anything._ There was no way for Peter to figure out if he was right or not (and this wasn’t exactly something he could go about just blindly excusing MJ’s father of).  It was a blind, _very serious_ accusation, and it just didn’t make sense.  Why her father do that?  Why would MJ let her father drive?  Peter’s imagination was spiraling out of control, especially when there was no proof.

“I’m sorry,” MJ said, shakily.  “I’m really sorry.  I didn’t think that—”

“Everything alright?”  Peter didn’t recognize the voice so he had to assume it was either the doctors who checked up on MJ and her father or just another hospital worker.

“Yes.  Everything’s fine,” Mr. Jones said.  Peter could still detect the bitterness in the back of his voice but he sounded much more pleasant than when he was talking to MJ.  “Dr. Fitz just told us we’re cleared to go home.”

“Oh okay.  Let me take you to the front so you can fill out some paperwork,” the hospital worker said. 

A second later, Peter heard the door open and the sound of footsteps emerging.  Coming from behind the hall was a nurse, Mr. Jones and then finally MJ.  Peter got up from his chair as MJ emerged.  She wasn’t close up by any means, but she was close enough to see all the wounds marring her face.  A horrible looking gash stuck out in particular at the corner of her left temple.  There were plenty of stitches, little black thread sewn together intricately.  Bruises painted the visible parts her shoulders and neckline.  Her hand was in a brace.  Her eyes were glossy, hazed over as she barely stumbled her way through the hospital.  Mr. Jones wasn’t in as critical of a condition.  He had his own mass of bruises, but there weren’t any severe scraps like MJ had.  His eyes were heavy, though, probably exhausted.

“ _Michelle!”_  Kevin squealed.  He threw the coats off of him and scrambled toward his sister.  MJ gave Kevin a watery smile as she managed to take hold of her little brother and pull him into an awkward hug.  Though Kevin wasn’t intentionally trying to hurt MJ, it was obvious that MJ wasn’t in the condition to handle a wild, excited brother grabbing onto her.

“Hey, hey.  Easy, son,” one of the nurses said.  She put her hand on Kevin’s shoulder.  “Your sister is a little weak from the accident.  You just got to go a little easy on her.”

“I’m okay,” MJ interrupted.  “I’ll be fine.”

“Do you guys have a way to get home?” the nurse asked. 

MJ looked over at Peter and May.  They took it as a cue to approach the three of them, and the closer they got, the more panicked Peter got.  “We’d be happy to—”

“That’s okay,” MJ interrupted.  “We’re probably going to go to the pharmacy first.  There’s a few things that need to be taken care of.”

“Really, it’s no problem,” May said.

Mr. Jones shook his head.  “We’re not going to be a burden to you guys any more than necessary.  MJ, Kevin, get your stuff.  I’m going to call a cab.”

“Can I say goodbye at least?” MJ said.  “They stayed with Kevin the whole night.”

Mr. Jones sighed.  “Fine.  Alright.”  He glanced at May and Peter, who were standing in the lobby looking like fish out of water.  “And thank you for coming to make sure we’re alright.  It should take the cab a little bit of time to get here so you have until then.”

“Thanks,” MJ whispered.  She gave her father a weak-spirited smile before staggering over to Peter and May.  When she was close up, Peter studied her bruised and damaged face even further.  Her eyes were stone cold, exhausted.  “Thanks for coming.”

Peter nodded.  He looked over to his aunt, who took the cue and left the two of them alone.  “Yeah.  Any time,” Peter muttered.  He wanted to keep his cool but looking over MJ’s appearance, he just couldn’t do that anymore, not when MJ looked like she was about to fall apart and not when Peter suspected her father was responsible for it.  “Jesus, what happened?”

“Lost control on a curve,” she said, though it was the same regurgitated story that didn’t explain the conversation between her and father.  MJ wasn’t looking Peter in the eye when she spoke, and he found that unbelievably alarming.  “I sprained my wrist and hit my head.  Got a few stitches.  I don’t have a concussion or anything.  Really, this isn’t that big of a deal.”

Hearing her say that it wasn’t a big deal sent a rush of frustration coursing through Peter’s body, but right now wasn’t the time to lash out at her.  “Are you sure you don’t need a ride home?”

MJ nodded.  “Yeah.  My dad is in kind of a mood, anyway.  Driving into a pole can do that to a parent.”  Her joke fell flat considering that neither Peter nor MJ laughed.  She looked away from Peter for a long second, as though she was contemplating something important before MJ finally said, “I should probably get going.”

Peter looked over to see her father, arms crossed, watching Peter and MJ with narrowed eyes.  “Yeah.  Maybe you should.  Will you call me sometime?”

“I’ll try,” she said.  MJ only briefly turned to walk away before she looked back at Peter.  “But maybe not tonight.”

“I understand,” Peter said.  He watched worriedly as MJ went to her father’s side and the Jones stepped out of the hospital. 

* * *

Word about what happened with MJ over the weekend spread at the school like wildfire.  She didn’t show up on Monday, which made sense given her physical state.  It was probably a good thing too considering that everyone seemed to be talking about her.  It wasn’t malicious by any means, nor was it petty gossip like it was when Peter attacked Flash.  There was a concern from her friends, people going over to Peter to see if he had any updates on MJ’s condition.  Sometimes, people Peter didn’t even think liked MJ went to see if she was okay.  It was nice to see how many people cared about her and he felt equally shitty when all he could say in response to this sudden mount of concern was a feeble ‘she’s doing alright, I think.’ 

The fact of the matter is MJ wasn’t really telling Peter much.  He wasn’t really expecting a call from MJ Friday night and he even understood not hearing from her on Saturday considering the crash was still pretty fresh in her mind and the tension at her house probably hadn’t gotten any better.  But Sunday passed and no news.  Not even a text.  Was it selfish for Peter to have expected MJ to keep him posted on what was happening?  He wasn’t immediate family.  They’ve only been dating for a few months so it wasn’t like their relationship was _that_ serious.  They weren’t engaged or anything.  Maybe she thought Peter knowing she was going to recover was enough.  Or did MJ not calling Peter have something to do with what her father said at the hospital?  It was pretty evident Mr. Jones didn’t want Peter or May at the hospital.  The suspicions about Mr. Jones being the driver seemed to make more and more sense, considering that Peter really trusted MJ when it came to being a safe driver.  That being said, it was so unnerving to think that Mr. Jones would ask MJ to take the fall for her that Peter could barely contemplate the thought. 

“I’m overthinking the situation, aren’t I?” Peter asked.  He was waiting at the rooftop of the hotel, the same one where he took MJ what felt like a million years ago.  The same one that she drew.  “I mean, she was just in a car accident.  She obviously has bigger things to worry about than me, right?”

“I’m not sure, Peter,” Karen said.  “Didn’t she call you Friday night so that you wouldn’t be worried?”

“That’s different,” Peter said.  “We were supposed to hang out that night.”

“She might just need time to process what happened,” Karen explained.

“That’s true,” Peter sighed.  “Another good for me tonight?”  He was pretty eager to change the subject. 

“Sounds like there might be some vandalism down on State street,” Karen said. 

“Tell the cops I got it.  Lead me there?” Peter asked as he stood up from the ledge of the rooftop.

“What else am I here for?” Karen said with a light laugh.   

Considering that Peter wasn’t having a great Monday, he was happy to say that rounds went pretty well that night.  The vandals were nothing more than just a couple of teenagers goofing around and trying to act funny.  One look at Spider-Man standing over them was enough to set them straight: they even offered to clean up the area in return to Spider-Man letting them off easy.  Other than the vandals, there wasn’t much crime going on so Peter ended up helping a few people were directions and holding up a flashlight and redirecting traffic when a street light was busted before calling it a night.  There was little ‘action’ that night but it was Spider-Man being Spider-Man and that’s what matters.

Peter hoped that Tuesday was going to be better than Monday.  Peter looked forward to after school since Tony promised to take him to the compound that night.  Ever since he had started to have issues with PTSD, Tony has been inviting Peter to the compound more frequently and with little reason.  Tony always said it was to discuss Peter’s suit and go through any unexpected kinks, but Peter knew it was just Tony’s way to check in on him.  On the other hand, MJ didn’t come back to school that day.  Peter tried to tell himself that putting his nose into her business wasn’t going to solve anything.  It was hard to ignore the fact that MJ wasn’t at school today considering that it was Decathlon practice that day.  Mr. Harrington was much more proactive today, and everyone went easy on Peter. 

Peter ended practice early by a couple minutes since Tony arrived at Midtown earlier than expected.  When Tony pulled in to the compound, Peter threw his backpack around his shoulder and followed Tony into the kitchen.  Peter settled into one of the high chairs at the island, watching as Tony began to search through his cabinets and fridge for some kind of fancy snack for the two of them.  When Tony was finished, Peter stared at the cheese, bread and fruit platter sitting in front of him.  “Sparkling water or sparkling lemonade?” Tony asked, opening up the fridge.

“Sparkling water is fine,” Peter said.  The way Tony treated Peter when he was over at the compound always made Peter feel like a rich dignitary. 

With snacks and drinks in front of them, Tony finally settled into the chair beside Peter.  “How was school today?  Did Decathlon practice go alright?”

Peter nodded.  “Yeah.  Surprisingly.  I had to run practice myself today since MJ wasn’t at school.  She covers humanities so I thought it was going to be kind of difficult without her but it went pretty well.”

“That’s good.  And your first competition is coming up?”

“In a couple of weeks,” Peter said.  He always seemed to forget how close regionals were.

“You sound worried,” Tony said.

Peter shook his head.  “I’m somewhat worried.  I think the team is prepared and everything — MJ and I have been working pretty hard to make sure of that.  It’s just, there’s a lot of pressure on MJ and me, being captains and everything.  I just don’t want to screw up like I did at nationals at the beginning of the year.”

“Actually showing up would be a good start,” Tony said.

Peter rolled his eyes.  “I suppose you’re not wrong about that.”  Peter looked over at Tony tentatively before asking, “Do you think if I send you the dates you’ll be able to come?”

Tony grinned.  “I promised you before I’d be there.  Pepper can worry about running Stark industries for the day.”

“Isn’t that what she already does?” Peter asked.

“More or less,” Tony said.  “So, how is MJ doing?”  Peter could tell the older man was a little hesitant to bring up the conversation.  Tony was Peter’s mentor.  He gave Peter advice when May, Ned or Karen just weren’t enough so of course Peter filled Tony in on the car accident with MJ.  Peter left out some other details for the sake of MJ’s privacy but Tony knew the gist of events.

Peter nodded.  “Yeah.  She should be fine.”  _I think.  Not like she would tell Peter anything._ “She said it was a couple of fractures.  Nothing too severe, which means that everything should heal pretty quickly.”

“You alright?”

“Yeah,” Peter said.  “It’s just that MJ really isn’t telling me anything.  I don’t expect her to tell me everything but knowing how she’s doing would be nice.”

“Have you tried calling her and asking her?”

Peter rolled his eyes.  “Of course I have.  Well, I texted her a couple of times.  She doesn’t want to FaceTime or anything.  Did I do something wrong?  Am I being overbearing trying to talk to her?”

Tony shook his head.  “No.  No.  You’re worried about her Peter.  There’s nothing wrong with being concerned about someone you care about… _but_ you should probably just pull back a little bit.  A car accident can be traumatic to someone and you, of all people, should understand that people react to traumatic events differently.  MJ might just need some time to cool off.”  Peter knew Tony had a point, but something was still gnawing on the inside of Peter.  Evidently, Tony sensed that something was wrong.  “Is there something else you want to talk to me about?”

_Yes.  God, yes_.  “Uhhh… I’m not sure,” Peter said. 

“You can talk to me about anything.  You know that, right?”

Peter looked up at Tony.  He knew deep down that discussing MJ’s personal life, especially her relationship with her father, was off-limits and it was wrong to drag Tony Stark, pretty much a complete stranger, into MJ’s life.  Only, it was Tony.  Peter trusted Tony not to judge MJ and not to act irrational, either.  If there was anything Peter could trust talking to about MJ, it was him.  “It’s just, MJ and her dad have kind of a strange relationship.  At first, I thought her dad was just overprotective but the more I look at their relationship, the more I start to think that that’s not the case.”

Tony readjusted himself in his chair, clasping his hands together.  “What do you mean ‘strange relationship’?”

Peter shrugged because this was _really_ getting into awkward territory.  “I’m not really sure,” Peter finally admitted, and he wasn’t lying about that.  “Mr. Jones and MJ have this complicated relationship.  I know that MJ cares about her father and Mr. Jones always seems to be going out of his way to give her gifts and treat her.  But then on the flip side, Mr. Jones also does unexpected, sometimes just plain _cruel_ things to her.  Why does he do that?  What’s the point of that?”

“In particular, what kind of things does Mr. Jones do?”

Peter shrugged.  “I don’t know.  He just does things that, for example, May normally wouldn’t do.  Sometimes, it seems like he’s really strict about his rules and MJ’s curfew and if she breaks any his rules, she’d get in a lot of trouble.  But other days, it seems like his rules don’t apply anymore.”

“What kind of rules?” Tony asked, eyebrows raised.

“She has to be home at certain times, and not just at midnight or 11:30, like normal parents.  She would have to be home exactly at 5:00 to make her family dinner.  Or MJ would have to cancel decathlon practice so that she can go pick Kevin up, even though I’m pretty sure her dad is home whenever she does that,” Peter said.  “I’m normally not invited into their house _ever_ , unless her dad either doesn’t know I’m there or when he’s going to be out of the house.  MJ has to get her dad’s approval to do little things, like going to the grocery store after school with the decathlon team.  Or stay at my place for dinner.”

“Maybe her dad just wants to know where she is,” Tony offered.

“Maybe,” Peter said.  “I like to consider May to be pretty protective of me, but not like that.  He controls every part of her life.”

“I suppose that could be true,” Tony said.  Judging by the look on the man’s face, it was clear that something was really bugging Tony.  “What does he do to her?”

“What do you mean?”

“You said he’s done some pretty cruel things to her,” Tony said.  “Like what?”

It wasn’t hard for Peter to answer.  “A couple days ago, _on her birthday,_ her dad destroyed all of her artwork.  He pulled into their garage too fast and some her paint got all over his front bumper.  So, he threw her paintings away.  I get that MJ shouldn’t leave her stuff out in the garage but, come on, that just seemed kind of harsh to me.  And she defended her father, too.  She said what he did was justified!”

“He is her father,” Tony muttered.

“I know that,” Peter finally admitted.  “It’s just, May would never do something like that to me.”

“Is that the only thing her father has done?” Tony asked.

Now Peter was really getting into some ugly territory.  MJ got incredibly upset with him when he brought up her father straight to her face.  But that voice in the back of Peter’s head was telling him that it was okay.  That Tony needed to know.  “It’s about what happened this weekend.  I’m making some pretty big assumptions here so if I’m wrong, I’m wrong.” 

Peter could feel himself getting more and more nervous addressing the issue head-on, and Tony recognized that.  “You know I’m not here to judge you,” Tony said.  “And you wouldn’t be thinking something if it wasn’t grounded in a little bit of truth.  What’s going on?”

_Stop being scared._ “MJ said that her dad had a business party that night and so she would be driving him home because he was going to be drinking that night.”  Peter bit down on his lip.  He could feel himself freaking out inside just _thinking_ what her father might have done.  “I think her dad was driving while he was drunk and so MJ either took the blame or he forced her to take the blame so that he wouldn’t get in trouble.  Look, I know it’s crazy and it’s not really something I can just go and confront MJ about, but a part of me just won’t let this rest.  I know something’s wrong.”  Peter didn’t continue, eager to see what Tony’s reaction was going to be.  Judging by Tony’s face, it was hard to tell what the man was thinking.  Tony looked genuinely concerned and confused, which was expected.  Accusing someone’s father of doing something like this warranted that kind of reaction.  “You think I’m crazy, don’t you?”

Tony shook his head.  “No.  No, it’s not that.  It’s just MJ’s dad reminds me of mine.”

_That_ scared Peter.  It scared Peter because Tony knew what it was like to have a bad relationship with a father.  Howard Stark, no matter the kind of legacy he left on Stark Industries and even SHIELD (of course Peter knew about SHIELD — when those death machines went down in DC, it was all Midtown could talk about), wasn’t well known for being a great father.  To Peter’s understanding, Howard Stark didn’t care what happened to Tony, his _son_ , his own flesh and blood.  Howard Stark dedicated his life to Stark Industries, but was indifferent to his own family and that left a callous mark on Tony himself.  Peter never talked about Howard Stark with Tony, even though Peter had a million questions.  He’s done research but the news reports don’t go in depth about the strained relationships within the wealthy Stark family. 

“Oh…” was all Peter could say.  “What do you think that means?”

“I’m not going to make any assumptions about MJ and her dad,” Tony started; it was obvious how delicate Tony was trying to be, “but how well do you even know her father?”

Peter frowned.  “I mean, he’s…” Peter trailed off because Tony _had_ a point.  Mr. Jones was a construction manager.  He uprooted MJ and her brother after their mother died.  Other than the fact that he’s pretty fickle, Peter didn’t know the man all that great.  “He’s normally not around.”  And the more Peter thought about it, the more Peter realized how true that statement was.  Mr. Jones always seemed to be ‘working’ or ‘out of town.’  He’s never been to a decathlon tournament, even though to Peter’s understanding, Mr. Jones doesn’t work over the weekend.  MJ has said a couple of times that he just doesn’t come home during the weekends and doesn’t let MJ know where he is.  Mr. Jones didn’t show up to take pictures for the Winter Ball. 

“And he destroyed her artwork?”

“Yeah… I mean, I’m not sure if he gave it back or anything.  MJ didn’t want to talk to me about it and every time I tried to bring it up, she got mad,” Peter said.

“Do you know if he said anything else?” Tony asked.

“Like?”

“That she’s a bad artist?  She’s a disappointment?  Anything like that?” Tony asked.

Peter could feel his stomach churning at the change of conversation.  “When MJ was telling me what happened, she told me that all her dad said was that he didn’t like her artwork, which doesn’t make sense to me because her artwork makes MJ happy.”

“Can I ask you a serious question, Peter?” Tony said.

“Yeah.  Of course.”

“Has MJ ever showed up anywhere with bruises?  Or with a limp?” Tony asked.

“What do you mean?” Peter asked.

Tony sighed.  “Do you think Mr. Jones has ever hit MJ?  And not like a playful hit on the back of the head.  I mean, has Mr. Jones ever intentionally caused serious physical harm to Michelle?”

It felt like Peter’s heart was physically shattering as what Tony said completely registered in his mind.  Peter should have half-expected this conversation to go down this path.  If Mr. Jones had forced MJ to take the blame for what happened, perhaps it was just a lapse of judgment.  Implying that Mr. Jones hit MJ has completely different implications.  “No.  Of course not.”

“No?” Tony repeated, as though he didn’t completely believe Peter. 

Peter bit his lip.  A part of Peter was telling him that Tony was making a good point and that Peter was overlooking something important.  Only, nothing came to mind.  “I don’t remember anything like that happening.”

“Okay,” Tony said.  “But you’re confident her dad was the one driving.”

Peter shook his head.  “No.  I overheard her and her father talking.  She kept saying something like ‘no one suspects anything.  We’re fine.’  Things like that.  Maybe they were talking about something different.  I’m not really sure.  I’m just worried about her and I don’t know what to do.”

“I would keep an eye out on her,” Tony said.

“You don’t think Mr. Jones is actually…”

“Hurting her?” Tony said when Peter couldn’t finish the sentence.  “I can’t say, Peter.  I’m not around to see MJ and her father.”

Those words of thought left a lasting impression on Peter throughout the whole night.  Though Tony didn’t touch the subject of MJ anymore, Peter could tell that the subject was hanging over Peter and Tony’s head all during dinner.  Peter only half-heartedly discussed his suit with Tony, but he was over at the compound so frequently that there wasn’t anything to update Tony on.  After a slightly uncomfortable dinner, they hurried into Tony’s Audi.  When Peter got back to his apartment, he eagerly put the Iron-Spider suit on so that he could head out on rounds and focus on anything other than MJ and her dad and the crazy conversation he and Tony just had.  There was no way that her dad would ever hurt MJ.

He went to school on Wednesday, expecting everything to be the same but the second Peter saw Ned’s face, he knew something was different.  “Hey man,” Peter said to Ned.  “What’s going on?”

“MJ came back,” Ned muttered, gesturing toward her locker. 

Peter turned around.  Sure enough, MJ was fiddling with some of her textbooks in front of an open locker.  Peter said goodbye to Ned before going up to her.  She must have heard Peter coming because she closed her locker and looked up at him.  She obviously looked better: the bruises weren’t as purple, though her hand was still in a brace.  Though he suspected that she was going to be in a better mood, when Peter got a good look at her face, he knew something was wrong.  MJ was glowering, eyes drooping to the ground as she walked to Peter’s side. 

“Hey,” Peter said.  He didn’t dare get too close to her, not when that conversation Tony and Peter had was still playing in his head.  “How are you feeling?”

MJ shrugged.  “Alright.  A little tired.”

“How’s your dad?” Peter asked.

“Okay.  He wasn’t all that hurt in the accident,” MJ said.  “Really, he’s just staying home to rest up.  He went back to work today.  How did practice go?”

Peter really didn’t want to change the subject off of her but he wasn’t about to force her hand, either.  “It went well.  Mr. Harrington helped with the humanities side of things.  It was weird not having you around.”

“Yeah, I bet,” she muttered. 

Her eyes were focused on the ground.  In fact, she wasn’t even making eye contact with him.  “What’s on your mind?”

“Why would you ask that?” MJ said. 

“You’re not even making eye contact with me,” Peter said.

She bit her lip.  “Peter, I think it might be best if you and I take a break.” 

She barely looked at Peter as she spoke, which made it even harder for Peter to understand what MJ was trying to say.  _Take a break._ “What?” Peter sputtered.  “I don’t… what do you mean take a break?”

MJ sighed.  “It’s just not working.”

Peter’s head was spinning with questions and his emotions were spiraling out of control.  “No,” Peter said.  He was not going to give up on their relationship so quickly.  He wasn’t going to let MJ, who couldn’t be thinking straight, just throw all this away.  “No.  You know that’s not true!  You’ve done so much for me and I would do the same for you and I _have_ done the same for you.”

“Peter,” —she reached forward to touch his shoulder—, “I’m sorry.  I know how much this relationship meant to you, but—”

“I know it _means_ something to you, too!” Peter snapped.  He wasn’t trying to yell and he could tell that raising his voice was attracting attention.  “Was it because of our fight the other week?  Look, MJ, I’m sorry.  I was just worried about you.  That’s all.”

“It’s not, Peter,” she said.  There were tears in her eyes.  “You knew this was coming.”

“No.  I really didn’t,” Peter said.  “If I had, you wouldn’t have called me and asked for me to go to the hospital.”

A hint of fear flashed through her eyes but it disappeared quickly.  “Peter, I’m sorry, but it’s over.”

She turned to walk away, only Peter wasn’t willing to give up on her that easily.  Whatever filter he had left keeping him from bringing up that conversation in the hospital was gone.  “Is this about your father?” Peter blurted out. 

MJ stopped dead in her tracks.  She looked frightened and angry and surprised all at once.  “What?”

Peter stared at her.  There really wasn’t any great way to beat around the bush except to be straightforward with her.  “I overheard the conversation between you and your dad the night of the accident,” Peter said.  He could tell she didn’t understand so he kept going.  “He kept saying that you were lucky no one at the hospital suspected anything and that he didn’t understand why you thought it was so important for you to call me.”  Peter couldn’t hold back anymore.  “MJ, was your dad the one driving the car that night?”

The longer Peter talked, the more shocked MJ looked and the angrier she got.  “You were _spying_ on me?” She gasped, ignoring his question.

“I was walking down a hallway and I heard your dad screaming at you,” Peter said.  He was getting increasingly angrier as the conversation progressed, but he also knew that it was incredibly unfair to be angry at MJ.  He just couldn’t help himself because he didn’t understand why she was being so stubborn about this.  “I’m not here to break up your family or anything like that.  I just want to make sure that you’re okay.  I’m—”

“Worried about you,” MJ finished.  “ _Don’t be._ I’m not some random girl in the streets who needs your help.  I can take care of myself.”

“I know that,” Peter said.  “You’re always telling me how I don’t have to fight my battles myself and I’m here telling you the same thing.”

“My _father_ isn’t a battle,” MJ snapped.  The bell rung.  “I’m sorry, Peter.  I have to go.”

“MJ, wait—,” Peter attempted, fruitlessly.  She was lost behind the sea of students trying to get to their class.

The rest of the day didn’t get any better, not when the news of MJ coming back to school and immediately breaking up with Peter spread pretty fast.  Even though Ned didn’t dare to bring up the situation with Peter, it was obvious that he knew about what happened just by the way that Ned pitifully looked down at Peter.  He half-expected to see MJ at lunch or in the hallway during break or in between classes but she never showed up.  She was always good at slipping through the crowd unnoticed but not from Peter, not from her _friends_.  It was like the beginning of the year all over again.  She was just this mysterious student who went to Midtown who Peter thought he knew but really didn’t. 

In between struggling to understand why MJ decided to break up with him and trying hard to convince himself that Mr. Jones wasn’t doing anything to hurt MJ, he was surprised that he didn’t collapse halfway through the day.  He supposed that the only reason Peter was still afloat was the fact that he was starting to keep himself in unhealthy denial.  He was starting to convince himself deep down that MJ wasn’t there to break up with Peter because _he_ did something wrong or because she didn’t like him anymore.  It had to be about his father.  Mr. Jones voiced his opinion loud and clear at the hospital so it just made the most sense for him to responsible for everything happening.  Peter had a headache halfway through the day trying juggle all of his thoughts.

He was glad today was Wednesday because that meant he could go to Dr. Strange and get some peace of mind.  At their session, Peter started with telling Dr. Strange everything about the break up, from the fight they had the previous week to the car accident to the conversation, it was apparent that Dr. Strange was at least mildly confused.  “Wow,” he finally managed.  “That’s… that’s a lot for one person to handle.  I would have expected you to be more upset right now.” 

Peter explained to Dr. Strange his thoughts about why MJ broke up.   

“So, you think Mr. Jones is the reason MJ broke up with you?” Dr. Strange concluded.  “And because you’ve convinced yourself that Mr. Jones is the reason behind your break up, you’re not letting yourself process what happened today?”

“I’m not repressing anything,” Peter said.  “Believe me, I wasn’t happy that MJ wanted to break up!”

“ _Wasn’t,”_ Dr. Strange muttered.  “Look Peter, I understand where your concern for MJ is coming from.  I just think that perhaps your mind isn’t letting yourself fully understand the events that have happened over the weeks.  Tell me how you really feel.”

Peter frowned.  “I’m not that worried because I know that—”

“Peter,” Dr. Strange interrupted.  “How do you really feel?”

Peter looked away.  He didn’t need to bottle up his feelings anymore, especially with Dr. Strange.  “I keep thinking that I’m going to be okay but it just seems to get worse and worse…”  To be honest, Peter wasn’t sure if he was going to make it.  His heart and emotions were being pulled and tugged in a million directions as his brain tried to sort out the pure mess that was this day.  She broke up with him and he doesn’t understand why.  He cares about her.  He thinks about her.  He puts _her_ first and she just left him like that.  MJ dumped him when she knew about much she meant to him.  MJ knew some of his biggest secrets: the fact that he’s Spider-Man.  The ins and outs of his anxiety.  What really happened the night Uncle Ben died.  And after everything Peter shared with and the fantastic way that MJ was slowly opening up to Peter, he didn’t think their relationship was going to end this abruptly.  It _hurt_.  Really, really hurt.  “It felt she betrayed me.”

Dr. Strange nodded.  “I see.  But you still believe her father was responsible for your breakup?”

“I don’t know,” Peter said.

“Why are you so sure it was her father?” Dr. Strange asked.

Peter explained to Dr. Strange the conversation at the hospital and his speculations.  “Do you see why I’m so worried about her?”

“I can understand where you’re coming from,” Dr. Strange admitted.  “And those very serious accusations against her father, too.  Are you positive that her father was the one driving the car?”

Peter shook his head.  “No.”  It looked like Dr. Strange was going to say something but Peter cut him off.  “I trust my gut, and my gut is telling me that something shady is going on between her and her father.”

“While I’m sure your gut has been right on most occasions, this isn’t just another night of rounds where you’re fighting some random criminal,” Dr. Strange said.  “This is child abuse, Peter.  You understand that, right?”

Yes and no.  Peter knew that it was wrong and immoral and _illegal_ for Mr. Jones to hurt MJ, or to threaten her to take the blame for the accident.  But the words _child abuse_ made it all the more serious, made Peter all the more nervous for her.  “Yeah,” Peter said, clearing his throat.  “I mean, I understand what I’m accusing Mr. Jones of.”

“Okay.  That’s good.  Now, Peter, you do realize that if you’re right about this, it’s grounds to arrest Mr. Jones and its grounds to terminate his parental rights.  You need to understand that if you turn Mr. Jones in, _which you should_ if you’re right, then MJ and her brother can end up in foster homes.  They can be sent away.  Legally speaking, child abuse cases are difficult to—”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Peter exclaimed.  “I don’t even know if I’m right about this!  I don’t what to destroy her family.”

Dr. Strange nodded.  “I understand.  But _you_ need to understand that you are a responsibility to Michelle and her brother to report her father if you have to.  You have to be sure that you’re right.

“Okay.  Okay, I’ll be sure,” Peter said.  He had no idea how serious this conversation was going to get.

“And Peter, there are ways to handle these situations and confronting MJ the way you did at school wasn’t the right way,” Dr. Strange said.

A pang of guilt shot through Peter’s chest.  “Yeah.  I know.”  

* * *

The conversation he had with Dr. Strange was stuck in his head.  What Peter originally thought was just a lapse of judgement could be much worse.  The most important thing for Peter to do at the moment was to figure out if his suspicious were what.  Going about that would be difficult, especially since MJ just broke up with him and was probably still pissed.  That being said, Peter had to start somewhere.  Only, MJ was obviously avoiding him.  Just like yesterday, Peter didn’t see her at all that day.  And she skipped English class, something about having a doctor’s appointment so she had to miss class.  She didn’t show up to decathlon practice either.  The entire decathlon team knew about the break up so no one was surprised about MJ not being there and no one dared to speak out of line.  Not even Flash.  The fact that no one acted normal made the situation all that much worse.  Everyone tried to be so polite to Peter, as though he was this delicate little thing that needed nurturing.  He was relieved when practice was over.

“Dude, are you alright?” Ned asked on Friday when he noticed Peter stare at MJ’s deserted locker.

“I get being upset about our break up but she shouldn’t drop out of school!” Peter exclaimed.

“Maybe she’s just resting because of the accident,” Ned said.  “You saw how she looked yesterday.  All beat up and—”

Peter cringed.  “I get it.  I just don’t understand why she would break up with me.”

Ned shrugged.  “I don’t know, either.  I was really rooting for you guys.  At least she hasn’t given back that bracelet you got for her for Christmas.  You’d know for sure it was over then.” 

Peter stopped dead in his tracks.  “What are you talking about?”

“You know how when engagements fall apart and the bride-to-be gives her ring back?  That’s when you know the relationship is over,” Ned said.  “If MJ is still holding onto the bracelet that either means you’re very good at picking out bracelets or she isn’t ready to move on from your relationship yet.”

At first, Peter was going to make fun of Ned for overthinking a little Christmas gift and then…  It seemed as though all his thoughts were coming together as he finally remembered the decathlon holiday party and the fact that she showed up with bruises and it seemed like everything was coming together in the worse way possible.  It all made sense and Peter didn’t want it to make sense. 

The next thing Peter knew, he was running.  Sprinting through the halls of Midtown just like homecoming night.  He left Ned standing there in the hallway dumbly.  Knowing how crazy he must have looked running through his high school, out of the parking lot and into downtown Queens, Peter didn’t want to attract any more attention to himself.  So, he took the backway, dodged a few shady neighborhoods, contemplated going on top of some rooftops but figured that was too risky.  When he reached MJ’s house, he stopped short, breathless.  He had to think through what he was going to say.  He couldn’t just confront MJ without having serious proof.  He had to be delicate, explain to her that she was safe.

Except, Peter didn’t have time to overthink the situation.  He was just standing outside the doorway when all of a sudden the back of his head started tingling.  Something was wrong.  Very wrong.  Something was happening _inside_ of MJ’s house — Peter knew it.   

Peter grabbed the door handle — it didn’t matter that the damn thing was locked because it took Peter almost no effort to yank the door free from its hinges.  He leapt into MJ’s house, eyes dialing in at the horrible sight quickly escalating in front of him.  Mr. Jones had hold of Kevin, yanking the kid up off the ground.  The expression on Mr. Jones’s face was like nothing Peter had ever seen before.  Pure, unequivocal rage.  It like he was possessed that way that the man was staring _at his own son._ Behind them, MJ was screaming, tears streaming down her face as she tugged on her father’s arms.

“Dad, stop!  Please—” MJ yelled.  It was like she wasn’t even registering the fact that Peter was standing in the middle of the entryway, staring in terror at the sight. 

“Get off!  Stay out of this!” her father yelled.  He jerked fast, throwing his arms in a flurry of irrational thought.  MJ tripped to the side, slamming into the coffee table against the wall.  She hit the corner of it before landing on the ground with a thud.

“Hey!  What the hell are you doing?” Peter yelled.  He went after Mr. Jones, not thinking.

“Peter?” MJ gasped, scrambling to get to her feet. 

Mr. Jones rounded on the teenage boy.  “What the hell are you doing here?”

“Get away from Kevin!” Peter said back.  All rational thoughts were disappearing.

“Peter, get out of here!” MJ begged.

“You stay out of this Michelle!”  Mr.  Jones yelled back.

Peter snapped.  “You need to back off!”  Peter’s spider-senses were lighting up.  Words blurred with other words.  Senses blurred with other senses.  This wasn’t the best way to the handle the situation, but Peter didn’t have a choice.  He had to help.  He had to protect her. 


	14. Normal Days

_“Be aware that most secrets come with a price tag_

_that you may not be aware,_

_however, at some point you will have to pay…”_

~ Sheryl Griffin ~

Chapter Fourteen: Normal Days

Peter acted fast.  He wasn’t even sure what really happened.  It wasn’t like a normal fight, where Peter felt like he was completely aware of his surroundings, of all of his actions, completely not panicked at all.  The last thing Peter was completely aware of was charging straight toward Mr. Jones.  Peter had one arm hooked on Mr. Jones’s wrist and the other pressed against his back.  Mr. Jones wasn’t expecting Peter to join in on the fight, not to mention Peter was significantly stronger than Mr. Jones so it wasn’t difficult to overpower the older man.  Peter had been of plenty of fights before so he knew the perfect pressure points and moves to knock Mr. Jones without doing any serious damage.  The short brawl ended in a matter of seconds with Mr. Jones lying flat on his back in the middle of the entryway. 

When the fight settled, when Mr. Jones was completely incapacitated and all that left was Peter, MJ and Kevin, it finally dawned on Peter what just occurred.  It _wasn’t_ just a lapse of judgement on Mr. Jones’s part by asking MJ to take the blame for the car accident.  Everything that Tony and Dr. Strange warned Peter about was true.  Mr. Jones just tried to _hit_ Michelle.  He tried to attack Kevin.  He tried to hurt his own kids.  Those bruises the night of the Christmas party wasn’t from some drunk frat guy at a college party.  Mr. Jones must have attacked her.  And the more Peter thought about it, the quicker he realized why: Peter had the stomach flu the day before and MJ went to spend time with him.  She was late for her curfew.  What if Peter was the reason for that?  What if, every time MJ missed a day at school, it was because she was bruised and beat up and harmed? 

Peter turned to stare at MJ and Kevin.  “Oh my god.  Are you guys okay?  Did he hurt you?”  Peter reached for MJ’s arm.  “Did he—”

“What the hell is wrong with you?!” MJ yelled.  She yanked free from Peter’s grasp, going to her father’s side and checking his pulse.  He wasn’t dead — Peter knew what he was doing and the maneuver he performed on her father wasn’t lethal.  When MJ figured out that her father was still alive, she got to her feet.  “Do you have any idea what you just did?”

“What?” Peter whispered.  “I was just trying to—”

MJ didn’t let him finish.  She turned to Kevin, who was gaping down at the sight of his unconscious father.  “Mi-Michelle,” he stammered through tears.  “Is he okay?”

MJ looked at her little brother, kneeling down to cup his cheeks.  “Yeah,” she said.  She gave Kevin her most convincing, watery smile.  “Dad’s going to be alright.  Why don’t you go upstairs?  I’m going to take care of everything.”

“He’s going to be mad at me,” Kevin sobbed.  “I didn’t listen.  I forgot to clean up my toys.”

“Kevin, it’s not your fault,” MJ said.  “Kevin, go upstairs.  I’m going to take care of it.  Everything is going to be alright.  Can you go upstairs for me?  For dad?”

Kevin looked over at Peter and, god, the expression Kevin had on his face made Peter realize that he may have done something _incredibly_ stupid and irresponsible and the exact opposite of how Peter should handle the situation.  Only, Kevin didn’t say anything to Peter.  He grabbed his coat, which was lying on the ground and hurried to the second floor; a door slammed a second later.  Now that Kevin was gone, the air felt suddenly extraordinarily tenser as MJ rounded on Peter.  Her expression was pretty hard to read, given that she looked equal parts angry and terrified.  The fact that Peter was partially responsible for how she was feeling made the situation all the more worse. 

“MJ—” Peter attempted.

“What have you done Peter?” she barely managed through tears.  “You could have hurt him!  You could’ve—”  MJ choked on a sob.  She looked away from Peter and turned to her father’s still unconscious form.  “I have to move him.  I should put him upstairs, shouldn’t I?  At least make yourself useful and help me!”

Peter could hardly move.  He didn’t understand.  He just saved MJ and Kevin.  He was just trying to help them and she’s lashing out at him like Peter was the one who attacked her in the first place.  “MJ,” Peter whispered.  She was grappling her father’s unconscious form: she was strong, no doubt, but not strong enough to haul her father up the flight of stairs and into his bedroom.  Peter reached forward and put a hand on MJ’s shoulder.  He had to be gentle with her.  He had to remember all the pain and suffering that _she_ had gone through.  “MJ, please, just take a breath.  I can help you.”

“ _I don’t need your help,”_ she seethed.  “I just… I need you to leave.”

“MJ, you do understand that I have to report this to the—”

She tore away from Peter.  “No!  No, you can’t do that!  You can’t call the police.  This is nothing.  I can handle it!”  It wasn’t a matter of MJ being angry at Peter anymore.  She was hysterical and terrified. 

“MJ, I can’t just forget about this,” Peter said.  He reached for her hands.  “I can help you.  You’re safe.  No one’s going to—”

“No!” she sobbed, her face twisted in agony, tears streaming down her cheeks.  “He’s my dad.  _My dad!_ You can’t take him away from me!”

Peter’s brows furrowed because he couldn’t understand what was happening.  “Michelle…”

“Peter, you don’t understand.  If you call the police, they’ll take my dad away from me,” she said.  She reached toward Peter, putting her trembling wrists around Peter’s neck.  “It’s my fault that he got this upset.  If you turn my dad in, I’ll never forgive myself, okay?  It’s not going to help if you try to take our dad away from us.  Please, Peter.  We already lost our mother.  We can’t lose our father, too.  _Please!”_

Peter could feel his heart falling apart, all rationality slipping away from him as he stared into her pleading eyes.  For all the pain and suffering that Peter had gone through this past year, all the anxiety and PTSD, that feeling when Peter lost his parents and Uncle Ben — one look at MJ’s eyes was enough to know that MJ was feeling all that pain right now.  Years and years of anguish that Peter had been holding onto, MJ was feeling all of it all at once.  Peter didn’t want to see her in pain.  “I want to help you MJ,” Peter said.  “The best way for me to help you is to turn your father in.”

MJ stared up at Peter for a long second.  “Peter…” she whispered.

“Come on, MJ.  I can’t let him hurt you, anymore,” Peter said.

The look in MJ’s eyes hurt Peter even more, because it wasn’t just her being upset at her father.  It was MJ looking like Peter was betraying her.  “Peter, I’ve kept your secrets to myself,” she said.  “Why can’t you do the same for me?”

“What?” Peter sputtered.

“You trust that I’ll keep your identity a secret.  You should keep this a secret in return,” MJ whispered.  It wasn’t a threat, but it was something, and it made Peter pretty damn nervous

“MJ, that’s different,” Peter said.  “I’m trying to help you.”

“No,” she said.  “You’re _hurting_ me, Peter.  Don’t do this to me.”

“MJ—”

“Peter, my dad rarely does this, and if anything like this happens, he always regrets it afterwards.  He takes care of Kevin and me,” MJ said.  “He’s my father.  I _love_ him and I need him.  If you want to help me, if you care about me, you’ll let me take care of this on my own.”

Peter bit his lip.  He knew it was wrong.  He knew that if Tony or Dr. Strange found out, they would be furious.  But there was a part of Peter that wanted to trust MJ, that wanted to give her father a chance.  “Okay,” he whispered.  “Okay.  Your dad has one chance.”

Her eyes lit up.  “That’s all he needs.  He won’t do this again.  He promised.”

It was hard to tell what MJ was thinking.  She looked thankful and relieved and worried all at once.  The heavy onslaught of emotions Peter was feeling was too difficult to process at the moment, so Peter thought it’d be best to wait to let himself reflect on the situation.  Right now, Peter couldn’t focus on what _he_ was feeling.  He had to keep his head clear to navigate the situation that was rapidly falling apart in front of him.  Maybe MJ was going to let her father get off easy, but Peter was going to keep his promise that her father has _one chance._ Peter knew it was his responsibility to make sure that her father would be turned in if something happens.  What Peter didn’t tell her was that he was going to be keeping tabs on her family.  What Peter didn’t tell her was that he was going to be paying attention to see if her dad every crossed the line, and if Mr. Jones did, Peter would call the police.  If MJ hated him for the rest of their lives for that, it wouldn’t matter because Peter was doing what would be best for her.  He would be protecting her, and keeping her safe was the most important thing to Peter right now.

“Thank you,” she managed, interrupting Peter’s train of thought.  MJ grabbed onto Peter and kissed his.  He could taste her tears as she gave him a sloppy kiss.  It wasn’t the kind of kiss that would suggest they were getting back together, but it was desperate, relieved, almost a form of payment, as though MJ owed Peter something.  When she pulled away, she turned to glance at her father.  “Can you help me get him upstairs?”

Peter hesitated.  Seeing the way that MJ was dutifully took care of her father, despite everything that just happened (and everything Peter suspected of happening), Peter knew that MJ was broken inside.  That days, months, _years_ even of abuse had obviously taken its toll on her.  She thought her dad was in the right.  She thought everything her father was doing was for protection, and Peter didn’t understand.  How broken was MJ to continually try to protect her father?  It killed Peter inside to know how damaged she was… but he didn’t want to risk doing anything else that could possible upset her.

“Yeah,” Peter finally said.

MJ took one look at her father before turning to Peter.  “You’re stronger than me.  Do you think you could just—”

“Of course,” Peter said.  Peter didn’t look at MJ as he reluctantly gathered up her father’s body and staggered up the flight of stairs.  Peter glared at Mr. Jones the entire way up the stairs.  How could this man be responsible for inflicting so much on his own kids?  How long has Mr. Jones been hurting MJ?  It had to have been severe and prolonged enough for MJ to start _defending_ her father. 

Peter got into Mr. Jones’s bedroom and set the older man down on his bed.  Standing in Mr. Jones’s bedroom felt intrusive and wrong, and Peter was all the more eager to leave.  Only, he was scared.  “What’s going to happen when he wakes up?” Peter asked. 

“We’re going to move on.  He won’t be angry,” MJ said, though part of Peter had a really hard time believing her.  “You promise me you’ll move on from this?”

_No.  I can’t_.  “Yeah…” Peter whispered.

She took his hand.  “Thank you,” she said.  MJ was leading Peter to her bedroom and, god, he hasn’t been in her room since that night of birthday and these great memories of a happy time was flooding back to him.  “Besides,” she whispered, leaning forward to kiss Peter’s chin and jaw, “Child Protective Services can’t do anything if there’s no sufficient evidence, and I’m not going to willingly testify against my father.”

Peter resisted the urge to groan out loud.  How could MJ say something like that?  How could she just belittle what was happening?  “Michelle…” Peter whispered.  “Can you listen to me for a second?”

“Not right now,” she whispered, leaning forward to kiss him.

For a split second, Peter was merely distracted with the heated kiss, mind going a little cloudy, but Peter turned away quickly.  “Hey, hey,” he whispered, pulling away from her.  “What are you doing?”

“I owe you this—”

“ _No_ ,” Peter said.  He pulled her hands away from her.  “You don’t owe me anything.”  Her eyes were filled with confusion, as though the thought that someone doing something good for her was so hard to believe, like it was an anomaly when it shouldn’t be.  Peter was so frustrated toward MJ and himself and her father that he couldn’t manage to be a part of this narrative anymore.  “I should go.”

“Oh.  Yeah, maybe you should…” she whispered, grasping for his hands.

MJ leaned forward with what Peter assumed was the intent to kiss him but he pulled away.  He would be sick to his stomach if he let MJ objectify herself any further.  “I’ll see you at school,” he whispered.  MJ stood at the edge of the railing by the staircase and watched as Peter walked slowly to the first floor.  He glanced at MJ one last time, contemplating whether or not he should try to convince her to turn her father in, but it seemed like a lost cause.  Because she had a point.  Even if Peter tried to call Child Protective Services or the police, _whoever_ he needed to, it wasn’t like they would be able to do anything if MJ and Kevin denied their father ever hurting them.  Peter couldn’t risk calling right now, only for Child Protective Services to think that nothing was wrong.  If anything, Peter would need legitimate proof. 

He was brain was spiraling out of control.  He decided against calling a cab, thinking a walk outside would be a good way for Peter to clear his mind.  Peter didn’t understand what was happening.  Why didn’t MJ want his help?  And, even though it wasn’t a direct threat, it felt pretty obvious that MJ would expose Spider-Man’s identity if he ever told anyone.  That wasn’t like her to say that.  She would never betray Peter’s trust like that, not even when their broken up.  He was angry at her for using that against him and angry at her for denying what her father is doing to her, but the fact that she _was_ denying everything made Peter feel terrible for her because the abuse must have been going on for so long that it’s become normalized.

When Peter made it to his apartment, he stood outside his front door, gathering himself before he faced May.  And there was a reason for that.  Peter tried to slip into his bedroom unnoticed but May had eyes like a hawk.  “Where the hell have you been?” she said, standing up from the kitchen table and going to stand, arms-crossed.  Ever since Peter had a meltdown in January, she doesn’t react as angrily whenever he disappears for a period of time.  Normally, Peter’s met with nothing but concern.

Peter decided not to lie to her — at least, not about where he was all night.  “I was over at MJ’s.”

“So, you’re skipping school to hang out with your girlfriend now?” she asked, frowning.

Peter shook his head.  “Technically, I skipped school to hang out with my _ex-_ girlfriend,” he muttered.  It wasn’t a matter of Peter being overdramatic because of the weight of everything that’s happened Wednesday and now today finally came crushing down on Peter.  He felt tears streaming down his cheek.  He _failed_ MJ.  He was supposed to protect the people he cared about, he was supposed to look out of the little people, but Peter couldn’t.  And he wasn’t sure if he’d ever be able to protect her.

“What?” May said, taking her glasses off and setting it down on the kitchen table.

“She broke up with me.  She said it wasn’t working,” Peter managed through tears.

“Oh, Peter, come here,” May said.

She grabbed onto Peter’s arms and pulled him into a firm hug.  Peter let himself go in her arms, nestling his forehead into her shoulders and he cried and cried and cried.  Perhaps for a measly high school romance at fifteen, Peter was being overdramatic but for the year that Peter’s been having —everything with Liz, the Vulture, the flashbacks, the PTSD and shit show that was MJ’s life —he felt like he was justified feeling this year.  Every terrible thing that happened to him was coming to the surface all over again.  

Even though May wasn’t entirely sure what was going on, other than the fact that Peter was greatly upset over a breakup, she was strong and firm with him.  Once Peter was calmed down enough, the two of them went to the couch.  “Do you want me to call Stephen?”

“No, no that’s okay.  I already talked to him,” Peter sniffled. 

“What about Tony?” May asked.

Peter shook his head.  “No.”  Peter took a deep breath.  He wasn’t completely settled in (there were too many reasons why Peter should be freaking out right out now), but there wasn’t much that Peter could do at the moment.  “Can we just watch a movie or something?”

May smiled.  “Yeah.  Yeah, we can spend a whole night together.  Just the two of us.”  She grabbed the remote and the blankets slung on the back of the couch before handing the items to Peter.  “You want something to eat?”

“Do you think you could make me some grilled cheese?” Peter asked.

May smiled.  She leaned over to kiss Peter’s forehead before heading to the kitchen.  In the span of a few minutes, she brought a platter of grilled cheese over, and two unopened cans of coke.  They spent what felt like five hours lying on the couch, going through Netflix to pick through all the movie selections.  There were no good movies that Peter and May haven’t seen recently, so they settled for binge watching _the Office_.  Given how busy Peter has been this past year, the two of them haven’t had nights-in like this, especially since Peter started dating MJ.  Lying on the couch, sharing a blanket and pigging out over grilled cheese, popcorn and eventually ice cream, and laughing over whatever the hell was happening at the Dunder-Mifflin Scranton branch that week felt great.  Peter really missed nights like this.

When it was 9:00, May and Peter thought they’d give Netflix a rest.  “I can help clean up,” Peter offered.  He grabbed the dirty plates and empty cans and brought it into the kitchen.

“Are you… going out tonight?” May asked.

Peter shrugged.  “I don’t know… maybe.”

She frowned.  “You know, it’s okay to give yourself a night off every once in a while.”  May ran her fingers through Peter’s hair.  “Can I ask you something?”

“You’re my aunt,” Peter said.  “You can ask me anything.”

“Right…  This may be a little awkward, though,” May said.

Peter groaned.  “May, I really don’t think I can handle ‘ _the talk’_ right now.  It would have made more sense if MJ and I were still dating to have this talk.”

She rolled her eyes.  “It’s not that, Peter,” she said.  “Now that you and MJ have broken up, you don’t think she’s going to tell people about…”

“Me being Spider-Man?” Peter said.

May nodded.  “Yeah.”

_I thought I knew my secret was safe with her, but now I’m not so sure._ “Yeah,” Peter said.  “Trust me, MJ isn’t that kind of person.”

“Okay,” May said.  “I believe you.”

“I’m going to go to sleep,” Peter said. 

He kissed her cheek before hurrying off to his room.  A part of Peter felt genuinely compelled to go on rounds tonight — at the very least, it would be something to take Peter’s mind of the situation at hand, but he was distracted.  And getting into a fight while he was distracted didn’t seem like such a great idea.  Going off that conclusion, Peter started getting ready for bed.  He packed his bag and picked out his clothes for tomorrow, two things that Peter _never_ did.  When Peter was finished, he got his pajamas and went into his bathroom because right now, nothing felt better than taking a long, hot shower.  He stood under the hot spray of the water for what felt ten minutes.

During that time, Peter allowed himself to think just one more time tonight about MJ.  He let himself soak in the anxiety and fear that he felt for her and for himself and for Kevin.  He let himself grapple with the decision of turning in her father, which was supposed to be the right thing to do, but also struggle to coming to terms with the fact that MJ clearly didn’t want his help and that she wouldn’t cooperate if he did call the authorities.  It was hardest for Peter when his thoughts drifted to tonight and whether or not her father would be angry when he woke up.  Peter didn’t know a lot about child abuse or neglect beyond what he learned in health class.  And Peter really knew from health class was the cycle of violence: the honeymoon stage, the tension-building stage and then the actual abuse.  Peter didn’t know about all the signs that point to long-term abuse or who he should call if he ever witnessed child abuse.  Honestly, Peter barely knew anything about how to help her. 

Which is why Peter should notify an _adult_ , but MJ won’t let him. 

After that thought, Peter shut the water off, dried off, got dressed in his pajamas and went to bed with a headache. 

* * *

Peter assumed that facing MJ the next day would be painful and awkward and uncomfortable.  For the most part, that assumption was accurate.  He would be lying if he said he wasn’t looking to see if MJ even showed up for school.  When he saw her standing by her locker, Peter than checked to see if she was bruised or if she looked… _harmed_ (he supposed that would be the best word for the situation because, honestly, he really wasn’t sure what to say). MJ wore light makeup, her hair was pulled into a French braid and she wasn’t wearing her typical sweatshirt and old jeans.  MJ wasn’t necessarily smiling but, at the very least, she looked peaceful, normal, content, like nothing serious happened last night.  She was healing pretty quickly from the car accident, so the bruises weren’t as potent, either.  Surprisingly, she looked good. 

“—Peter?” Ned said, poking his best friend in the shoulder.  “Peter?”

“What?” Peter looked over at Ned.  “Did you say something?”

“Where did you go yesterday after you disappeared from school that day?” Ned asked with a laugh.  Peter glanced at MJ and that was enough to answer the question.  “Oh.  Did you talk about the breakup?”

“Kind of,” Peter said.  “It was… complicated.”

“Did you guys, at least, end it on a good note?” Ned asked, to which Peter groaned.  Rumors about the breakup spread around the high school, and the details were greatly exaggerated, too.  “Sorry, dude.  Too soon?”

“No, it’s alright,” Peter muttered.  “We’re not a terrible place, I guess.  There are certain things that can’t be repaired quickly and MJ breaking up with me doesn’t repair quickly, so…”  It wasn’t like Peter could actually tell Ned the real story, and it wasn’t Peter’s story to tell so that was all his best friend was going to find out.

“But you’re still going to have your captain’s meeting tonight?” Ned asked. 

“We put in way too much effort to mess up our changes at nationals,” Peter said.    

“But it’ll be awkward, won’t it?”

_You have no idea._ “Hopefully, it won’t be that bad.”

Ned snorted.  “Clearly you’ve never had a bad break up before.”

“And you have?”

“Dude, I’m just saying that today might be a good day to use your ‘skip-a-captain’s-meeting-without-any-repurcussions-because-MJ-does-it-all-the-time’ card,” Ned said, patting Peter on the back.

Just talking with his best friend was making Peter all the more nervous.  “Dude, it’s fine.  It’s really not a big deal,” Peter said again, even though he wasn’t all that convinced any more. 

What Peter knew for sure was that he cared too much about Decathlon to let other distractions get in the way.  Fortunately, MJ shared that same sentiment — or at the very least, she tried to act normal at the captain’s meeting.  They had their first competition next Saturday, only a week away, so they were pretty nervous and hectic to get last minute planning done.  Buses were already prepped and scheduled for Saturday; catering was already paid for and just needed to be picked up the day of the competition; all the logistics were taken care of.  All that the team needed to do was fill out liability and waiver forms, which the Decathlon program was pretty intense about since the winning team of nationals in September almost died at the Washington Monument (Peter still felt pretty guilty about that).

“We’re still agreeing on no practice on Thursday?” MJ said.

Peter nodded.  “Yeah.”  A couple weeks ago, Peter, MJ, and Mr. Harrington both realized that they were being intense with all the extra practices and homework outside of the team practices on Tuesday and Thursday.  That being said, they decided that the Thursday before regionals, the team would get the day off to rest and relax.  A much needed day of _resting_ and _relaxing_ , too. 

“Then, I guess this is all we need to worry about,” MJ said.  “Should we end the captain’s meeting early?  I need to get home, anyway.”

Peter winced.  “Oh.  Yeah, that’s fine with me.  What are you doing tonight?”  He isn’t being nosy.  He’s making conversation.  He’s being a good friend.

“My dad is taking my brother and me out to the movies,” she said as she packed up her things. 

“That sounds fun,” Peter said.

“What about you?” MJ asked.

Peter shrugged.  “Ned and I are probably going to hang out for a bit.”

“No rounds?” she asked, casually.

“Might do that later,” Peter said.

“Cool.  Don’t get hurt,” she said.  It was hard to tell if she was being serious or not but she ended the conversation with a smile before hurrying out of the bedroom. 

Peter watched as MJ disappeared outside the gym.  The way she acted during the captain’s meeting, it seemed as though nothing happened yesterday.  He tried to think more about the way she looked, how genuine her smile was.  She hid it well, and that scared Peter.  But what scared Peter the most was that her face was still plenty marred with bruises from the car accident, which meant that he wouldn’t be able to tell whether the bruises were just from the accident or from something else. 

“So, what kind of rounds are you planning on doing tonight?” Ned asked on the way back to Peter’s apartment.  He had SAT prep after school at the convenient store down the street so Peter and Ned met up afterwards.

Peter shrugged.  “Really, whatever comes up.”

“Do you need the man in the chair tonight?” Ned offered.  He’s always eager to help Peter out with missions, but there hasn’t been much for Ned to help with ever since homecoming.

“Probably not,” Peter admitted.  “Rounds have been pretty boring.”

“No one’s trying to kill Spider-Man?” Ned said.

Peter frowned.  “You say that like it’s a bad thing no one’s after me.”

The two friends joked all the way to Peter’s apartment.  May was working late that night, which meant Ned and Peter had the apartment all to themselves.  It wasn’t like they were planning on having a party or even drink from May’s small stash of alcohol (apparently the night of the Winter Ball, Ned woke up with a massive hangover and had since then proclaimed to never drink again).  Really, what they were planning on doing was lounging around in the living room while playing video games and eating lots and lots of pizza.  Peter doesn’t get a lot of opportunities to hang out with Ned, especially not since he and MJ had started dating, so it was nice to get his mind off of his things.  By the time it was 10:00, and two large-sized pizzas later, it was time for Ned to go.

“We’re still on for working on our history project tomorrow?” Ned asked.

Peter nodded.  “Sounds good to me,” he said.  “I’ll see you later.”

When May was out of the room, Ned leaned in close and asked, “And if Spider-Man needs anything tonight, you’ll call me?”

Peter rolled his eyes.  “Yes, Ned.  I promise.”

“Sweet.  Thanks, dude,” Ned said, fist-bumping Peter before going on his way. 

Rounds were a must for that night, especially since it was Friday and all the wild parties were supposed to happen tonight.  It was yet another slow-night, though that was nothing to complain about, and after helping out a few drunk people get back home alright, Peter called it a night.  He didn’t go back to his apartment, though.  No.  Peter had other plans and, even though it may be slightly intrusive and probably pretty inappropriate to do, he headed to MJ’s house.  Maybe she wouldn’t cooperate with him in terms of notifying the authorities but he was going to make sure that nothing else happened to her.

“Am I being overprotective?” Peter asked as he snaked his way to the tree top across from MJ’s house.  He founded a comfortable position to crouch as he peered in through MJ’s window.

“No,” Karen said.  “Perhaps I should notify the authorities so that you don’t have to deal with this?”

Peter shook his head.  “ _She_ won’t cooperate with the authorities and I have no evidence so what good is that going to do?”

From where Peter was standing, he had a pretty good vantage point of MJ’s living room.  Her family must have just come home from the movies because they were just now taking off their jackets and hanging it up on their coat rack.  Peter moved around a little so that he could get a good look at Mr. Jones.  There were no visible bruises, which meant that Peter didn’t hurt the man enough to cause any serious damage.  A part of Peter felt like he could have roughed up Mr. Jones a little, but the sensible part of Peter knew that wouldn’t help the situation in the slightest.  Despite everything that happened yesterday, Kevin, MJ and Mr. Jones acted as though they were an ordinary family living an ordinary with no dark secrets.  Like nothing even happened.  Again, that made Peter nervous.

“Karen, can you turn on enhanced reconnaissance mode?” he asked.

“Of course, Peter,” the AI said. 

A second later, there was a little bit of static and then Mr. Jones’s voice came high and clear.  “I have ice cream for you guys in the fridge,” he said.

“Oh!  What kind?” Kevin squealed.

“Mint chocolate chip.  Your favorite,” Mr. Jones said, messing with Kevin’s hair.  “Kevin, would you mind grabbing the tub for us?”

“Does that mean we can eat it straight from the tub?!” Kevin exclaimed.

“Of course!” Mr. Jones said.

“Yay!” Kevin squealed. 

The boy scrambled from the living room and toward the kitchen, leaving MJ and Mr. Jones alone.  The sight of her alone with her father made Peter nervous; he could feel the spider-senses flare up slightly.

“Did you enjoy the movie?”

MJ nodded.  “Yeah.  It was a lot of fun,” she said.  “Thank you for taking us.”

“Good.  I’m glad you had a good time tonight,” Mr. Jones said.  He leaned over to kiss MJ on the forehead and, though the act was harmless, Peter couldn’t help but wonder why Mr. Jones was acting so nice to MJ.  “I love you.  You know that, right?”

“Of course,” MJ said.

“Good,” he said, again.  “And you know you’ll always be my baby girl, even though you want to leave me in two years to go off to college?”

She smiled, lightly.  “I know that, too.”

“I have ice cream!” Kevin said, interrupting MJ and Mr. Jones’s conversation. 

The rest of the night, nothing out of the ordinary happened.  They ate some ice cream, talked a little bit more about the movie they just watched.  By the time Kevin looked like he was going to fall asleep sitting up right, Mr. Jones called it a night and sent his two kids to bed.  Even though that Friday night, everything seemed to be normal, Peter was still pretty paranoid.  For the rest of the week leading up to regionals, Peter ‘surveyed’ MJ and her family every day and everyday was exactly like that Friday night.  MJ typically worked the closing shift during the weekdays, which meant that she would get home late.  Though Peter wasn’t sure how it would be on normal days, MJ would come home to dinner ready and her father sitting there at the kitchen table asking how her day went.  He seemed genuinely interested, too.  He kept telling her how she didn’t need to work, that she didn’t need to worry about buying groceries for the family anymore and that he would take care of it.

“Dad, it’s not that big of deal,” she would keep saying.

“You’re a child.  I’m the adult.  It’s my job to take care of you.  I promise it’ll be different,” he always assured, such promises normally accompanied with a tussle of her hair or a kiss on her temples. 

She would always smile politely in response. 

Other nights, Mr. Jones seemed pretty interested in MJ’s social life.  He asked a lot of questions about the Decathlon team, profusely promising that he would make it to regionals this weekend.  In response to that, MJ seemed pretty excited that her dad was coming.  Peter wasn’t completely sure how he felt about that.  MJ was obviously pretty excited that her dad promised he would come, which meant that if he let her down, it would hurt.  _A lot._ And on of top that, Peter would be at the decathlon tournament.  Despite the fact that Peter’s been basically listening in on their conversations every night for the past week, he hasn’t heard his name being mentioned once.  Did Mr. Jones remember that Peter was one the who attacked him?  Would Mr. Jones be angry if he sees Peter?  What would that mean for MJ?

There were a lot of questions Peter had, and a lot of these questions went answered, despite keeping watch over MJ.  He still didn’t understand how MJ, Kevin and Mr. Jones could just move on?  What did Mr. Jones have to say in order to convince MJ that they _could_ move forward, that it would be different this time?

It was frustrating how hard it was to really get a sense of MJ’s home life just by the short conversations her and her father were having at night, so Peter tried to see if there were any warning signs at school.  Again, she was either really good at covering it up or there weren’t any problems.  She was genuinely excited about the competition coming up, as was the rest of the team.  Practice on Tuesday was a formal ‘rehearsal’ of regionals: the six competing members sat in line while Mr. Harrington read the questions off in the same format as the Decathlon officials would.  MJ and Peter came up with a three-second rule, which basically meant that if no one hit the buzzer within the first three seconds, the other team would have presumably been the first ones to answer.  The number of times that happened, though, was pretty minimal so Peter left practice that day feeling really good about the team’s chances to win.   

The day of the regionals, Peter could feel himself getting anxious the second he woke up.  The team was all meeting at Midtown early that morning, around 7:00 am, so that they could take a school bus over to the high school in Manhattan.  Fortunately, Manhattan was close, which explained why they were meeting at 7:00 and not any earlier.  Peter was smart enough to pack his bag, take a shower and lay his clothes out the night before so that he wasn’t as stressed out that morning of the competition.  He got dressed quickly, glancing at phone to see that MJ already sent a ‘ _everyone should be out of bed’_ reminder in the team group chat.  Outside, May was already making him breakfast: eggs, bacon and coffee.  Peter was so nervous that he could barely eat anything.

May frowned.  “I made you all this food and you’re only going to eat _that_ much?”

Peter gave May a sheepish look.  “I’m a little nervous.”

She smiled, even though Peter didn’t think there was anything amusing about him being nervous.  “Peter, you are going to be great.  You _know_ I’m right.  Now eat something!”

Peter didn’t end up eating that much, though May insisted on packing some protein bars because she knew he was going to be hungry before lunchtime.  She dropped Peter off that morning at the deserted high school where about half the team was already waiting, Ned and MJ both included.  He walked over to his team, yawning as he did.

“Man, did you get any sleep last night?” Ned asked.

Peter glanced at MJ, unintentionally.  Last night was a little different than the other nights.  MJ still worked late and, while her father still had dinner ready for her by the time that she came home, their conversation that night was much quieter.  It wasn’t so much about her father taking a huge interest in life, doing everything he could to make her feel loved.  He sat with her, asked how her day went and reminded her that she forgot to her chores.  Of course, that’s also what Peter would classify as an ordinary night between him and May. 

“Earth to Peter?” Ned said with his raised eyebrows.

Peter’s gaze shifted from MJ and toward his friend.  He tried to pretend he didn’t look at her by faking an exaggerated stretch.  “Long night.”

“Rounds?” Ned asked, leaning in to whisper.

Peter nodded.  “Yeah.  Lost track of time.”

“At least you can sleep on the bus,” Ned said.  “MJ isn’t drilling us with questions like Liz did.”

That was kind of relief, because trying to get his brain to function right now seemed like a terrible idea.  For the entirety of the short ride to Manhattan High School, this upper-class pretty wealthy school with equally as snotty kids, Peter sat in the back of the bus, listening to his Decathlon team cheerily shouting jokes over the bus.  When the bus pulled into the parking lot, MJ and Mr. Harrington were the first two to get off the bus so that they could check the team in, while the rest of the students unloaded the food and the rest of their stuff. 

“Do you guys have everything?” Mr. Harrington asked when he and MJ returned.

“Yeah,” Peter said.  While MJ and Mr. Harrington were in charge of logistics, such as keeping track of when their team was supposed to have their first round or reporting scores after every round, Peter was supposed to keep the team prepped and ready to go.  Getting the food there, keeping track of attendance was his responsibility.

“We’re in room 121,” MJ said as she and Mr. Harrington led the team into Manhattan High School.

The Academic Decathlon was pretty popular in New York so the high school was crawling with other teams.  The Midtown team hurried to Room 121 to escape the hallway.  They dumped their belongings on the ground of the classroom, eagerly.  All teams had an orientation meeting at the beginning of the day so there wasn’t much time for the team to get settled.  At 8:30 Mr. Harrington and MJ rounded up the team and followed the mass of other decathlon teams into the lobby of the high school.  Orientation was pretty boring considering that the Decathlon officials read off the rules that they distributed the team captains: make sure to clean up after yourself, no cell phones allowed during rounds, a few threats about cheating and then finally onto times for each round.  Midtown’s first round wasn’t until 10:00, so another hour to kill.  It was against some prep school from Rochester; Peter remembered the team from last year and didn’t feel all that nervous (was that mean to say?).  At first, Peter and MJ tried to do some speed-rounds to get some last-minute studying done while they waited but no one was all that interested in doing work.  The hour wait between rounds was spent laughing and relaxing and spending time with friends.  It was nice.

Tony and May showed up about half an hour before their round started.  While the Midtown decathlon team was pretty well accustomed to seeing Tony Stark hanging around in the same room as them, the other teams were pretty shocked when the billionaire philanthropist strolled down the hallway.  “Are you excited?” Tony asked, standing beside Peter and putting his hand on the teenager’s shoulder. 

Peter nodded.  “Yeah.  A little nervous but I’ll be fine.” 

“Of course you will.  My interns don’t fail on me,” Tony said, laughing.  His laugh was cut short when he glanced at MJ’s general direction.  Tony knew about the breakup but not about the details.  And he knew about the car accident.  May was busy chatting it up with Mr. Harrington so Tony seized the opportunity.  “How’s everything been going with MJ?”

“She’s talking to me, at least,” Peter said.

Tony frowned.  “Did you learn anything else about her father?”

_Yes.  God, yes, and I really need someone to talk to about it._ Peter shook his head.  “No.  I must have just heard the conversation wrong.”

Tony didn’t look convinced.  “Peter, are you sure that—”

“Ned, hey!” Peter exclaimed, jumping at the sight of his best friend walking back into the classroom.  “You’ve met Tony, right?” 

Now that Ned was quickly gushing over Tony Stark, Peter had plenty of opportunity to get out of having an uncomfortable conversation with his mentor.  Peter only half-heartedly listened in on the conversation, too distracted by the fact that Peter was starting to get pretty nervous since the first round was coming up and the fact that MJ was sitting in the corner of the classroom by herself.

“I’ll be right back,” Peter said.  “Ned, keep Tony company.”

“What do you think I’ve been doing, man?” Ned said with a goofy grin. 

Peter ignored Tony’s plea for help and went to MJ’s side.  “Everything alright?” he asked, going to kneel down beside MJ.

She looked up from her phone.  “Yeah,” she said.  “How’s Tony been doing?”

“Good,” Peter said.  He changed the conversation quickly.  “Are you nervous about competing?”

“Not really,” MJ said, shaking her head.  She glanced at her cell phone for a third time.

“Are you waiting for your dad and Kevin?” Peter said.

“Why would you say that?”

“Because you looked at your phone more times during this conversation than you have for the entire time we were dating,” Peter said.  He prodded her elbows with a playful smile.

She sighed.  “You know I don’t like exaggerations.”  She nudged Peter in the shoulder.  “But yeah.  I’m waiting for Kevin and my dad.  They said they’d be here by now.”

Peter looked away, especially because part of him didn’t think her dad would show up.  “Sounds nice.”

Mr. Harrington burst into the classroom, his bag swinging back and forth as he managed to get inside.  “Alright guys, are you ready?” Mr. Harrington exclaimed.  “The competition is running a little bit earlier so we’ll be starting soon!”

The team didn’t need any further instructions because everyone was already gathering together.  The competing team — MJ, Peter, Ned, Flash, Gwen and Cindy — hurried to the front of them where they followed Mr. Harrington to back of the auditorium.  Sitting at the table, staring down at the audience and the decathlon judges officiating the competition, Peter was starting to get pretty nervous.  The room felt suddenly _loud_ and _overcrowded_ and he felt like the sheer amount of people sitting in the auditorium was making the walls slowly move in on everyone.  That, mixed with the spotlights beaming up on Peter was blinding, made Peter feel like his heart was about to fall through his chest and then —

He felt MJ reach over and rest her fingers on his.  They weren’t dating and this wasn’t supposed to be romantic, but it was calming.  Today, he wasn’t going to let any of his past issues get in his way of competing because he wanted win _so badly._

After the head judge read off the list of rules and the teams introduced themselves, the questioning started coming quickly.  And Peter got the first question.  Then, Gwen got the next.  The first round was going great.  Midtown was winning question after question after question, and there wasn’t a doubt in Peter’s mind that they weren’t going to qualify for nationals after that fantastic of a first round.  Though the judges don’t tell the teams who won at the end, Mr. Harrington kept track of how many questions Midtown answered correctly versus how many questions Rochester High School answered correctly.  It wasn’t close.  The Midtown team victoriously parading their way back to Room 121.  MJ and Peter were leading the crowd, MJ congratulating everyone on a job well done when she stopped short, her father standing outside the door.  Just seeing her father was enough to get Peter tensed up and nervous.  Peter lingered in the back, hidden beside Flash and Ned. 

“There are you,” Mr. Jones said, grinning.  Kevin was leaning against the wall beside his father.

“You guys came!” MJ exclaimed.  She went up to give her father and brother a half-hearted hug.  “You guys missed our first round, though.”

“Yeah, and MJ did a _fantastic_ job,” Gwen said. 

“Sorry I missed it,” Mr. Jones said.  “Kevin and I tried to catch an early breakfast but they gave us the wrong order so we had to wait for them to remake it.  Anyway, we weren’t allowed in once the round started.”

“Yeah.  They’re pretty strict about that,” Mr. Harrington said.  He went up to shake Mr. Jones’s hand.  “What’s important is that you’re here now.”

“Exactly.  How many more rounds do you have?” Mr. Jones asked. 

“One more and then we find out if we qualified for the finals,” MJ explained.  “Come on.  Let’s get out of the hallway.” 

She ushered the team inside, grabbing her little brother by the hand.  While everyone got settled in, Peter made sure to find a place where he could watch MJ and her family without looking too suspicious.  It was hard not to be incredibly uncomfortable right now, knowing that her father, who Peter had just attacked, was a mere few feet away.  What it made worse was how _happy_ MJ looked, talking and laughing with her family as though she didn’t have a care in the world.  Peter didn’t want to take that away from her.

“Good job on those questions today, MJ,” Mr. Harrington said, loud enough for the team to turn their attention to their teacher.

“Yeah, you were great!” Betty said with a smile. 

“I did practice a lot,” MJ said, dismissively. 

“Sometimes I felt like practicing for decathlon was more important than being with her family,” Mr. Jones added.  He glanced around at the team.

“That’s only sometimes,” MJ muttered.

“Bet Parker isn’t any better,” Flash said.  Even May and Tony in the same room, Flash couldn’t help finding opportunities to make fun of Peter.

And Flash’s timing couldn’t have been worse, either.  Perhaps Mr. Jones really hadn’t noticed Peter before, but judging by the way that Mr. Jones’s trained his gaze on Peter felt… menacing may seem like to a strong word, but that was exactly how Peter could describe it.  The spider-senses tingled just barely, enough to make Peter’s muscles tense up at the sight of Mr. Jones.  Whatever Mr. Jones was feeling though, whether that was anger or fear or a mix of both, the man masked it pretty effectively behind a smile. 

“Haven’t seen you in a while, have I, Peter?” Mr. Jones said.

Peter cleared his throat.  “No.  Not in a while.”

“What things should we improve on, Mr. Harrington?” Gwen said when Mr. Jones didn’t respond right away. 

She must have figured that conversation was going south because of Peter and MJ’s breakup (why would she suspect anything else, after all?), so she tried to save the conversation by changing the subject.  Only, Peter couldn’t shake this nervous feeling that Mr. Jones very clearly remembered what happened a week ago.  Maybe the man had been suppressing his anger, but it seemed like one look at Peter was about to set Mr. Jones off again. 

And Peter didn’t want to be the reason MJ gets hurt.

Fortunately, the decathlon team was pretty busy that whole day so Peter could keep an eye on MJ and Mr. Jones.  Because Midtown won their first round, their team was put into the winner’s bracket, which meant that second round wasn’t going to be nearly as easy as the first round.  It went pretty well, though, especially since Peter was pretty distracted during that round.  Because Peter had bigger things to worry about during the national competition at the beginning of the year, he had completely forgotten how exhilarating and great it felt to compete.  All the questions he answered, he got right.  And the day just kept getting better.  It was announced about half an hour after the team’s lunch break that Midtown made it to the championship round.  Though Peter was pretty confident that Midtown was going to win, he was still pretty nervous going into the championship round.

“You’re going to be fine,” MJ said.  They were currently waiting backstage of the auditorium to be called onto stage. 

“Right.  Yeah, of course.  Thanks… MJ,” Peter stammered.  Of course, Peter and MJ didn’t have the most normal relationship out there, but it was hard for Peter to understand their dynamics all the time.

“And, if you’re nervous, just picture everyone in their underwear,” Gwen joked.

Peter rolled his eyes.  “I don’t think that helps.”  When MJ didn’t respond, Peter was really tempted to ask her about her father, to see if everything was going to be okay, but this wasn’t the time or the place. 

The championship round was, obviously, the hardest round.  Normally, Peter does a pretty good job gauging what team has answered more questions (normally it’s Midtown and it’s by a landslide), but the other team, some prep school from Albany, was pretty good.  The questions were economics heavy, which happened to be Ned’s specialty.  It was great seeing Ned really step up for the team.  He was fantastic, too _._ And, while the team all contributed to a very successful competition, Peter really credited his friend for the championship win.  It’s tradition to let the team decide who the MVP of the championship round was and everyone picked Ned; he got to get the trophy when Midtown was announced the winner of regionals. 

“That round was fantastic!” Mr. Harrington squealed as the team headed to the bus.  “Where to now?”

“Team dinner?” Gwen offered. 

“Yes! I’m _starving!”_ Jason said.

“There’s a new pizza place down the street,” Abraham said.  “How does that sound?”

“Oh!  Pizza!” Kevin squealed.

Gwen grinned.  “Guess that’s our answer!”

“Just a reminder, we only have the bus for a little bit longer so it’s going to drop us off at the restaurant and then everyone has to have their own rides home.  Does that work?” Mr. Harrington said.  There was a chorus of ‘yes’ or ‘yeah’, and it was settled. 

“Are you going to come with us?” Peter asked May and Tony before getting on the bus.  “The invitation is open to family?”

“We’ll be there, kid,” Tony said.  “Good job today.  I didn’t even know some of those answers.”

“That’s what months of studying gets you,” Peter said.  “Did you guys carpool?”

May nodded.  “We figured we would.  See you in a bit.”

“See you,” Peter said. 

It was a short drive to the pizzeria, _thankfully_ , because Peter was starving.  It was a cute little eatery, probably locally-owned, so the sheer sight of a large group like Midtown’s decathlon team walking inside looked like it really freaked the hostess out.  They were accommodating, though, and a few shifts of the tables here and there, and the team had plenty of seats to go around.  It was a genuinely nice dinner, too.  The team joked around a lot, excited about nationals coming up.  Peter couldn’t even remember the last time that he felt this relaxed with his friends.  Plus, the food was delicious, but that was just an added bonus. 

The trophy was being passed around the dinner table for the team to admire.  When it settled on Flash, Peter should have known that something was going to happen.  “Think fast, Parker!” Flash yelled as he wildly threw the trophy across the table.  Peter’s instincts didn’t betray him.  His hand shot out and caught the trophy securely, though Gwen, who was sitting beside Peter, jerked in response.  She hit the cup of soda in front of her and it went spilling all over the table and onto Peter’s shirt.  “Wow.  Way to go, Parker.”

“Flash.  That was all you, you psycho!” Gwen exclaimed.  She turned to Peter, scrambling to get napkins.  “God, I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Peter said.  He set the trophy onto the table.  “At least the trophy is safe.  I’ll be right back.” 

Peter got up from his seat and walked to the bathroom to get some paper towels to mop up his wet shirt.  Leave it to Flash to make a mess here.  Peter went to throw away the stack of paper towels into the trash when he heard the sound of the door opening and closing.  Even with the spider-senses activating, Peter already knew who was approaching him before the person even had the opportunity to identify themselves.  “How have you been, Mr. Jones?” Peter said.  One look at the guy’s face, and Peter felt a surge of anger coursing through him.  That being said, Peter wasn’t sure why Mr. Jones approached so being civil was Peter’s first priority.  “You’re looking pretty good since the accident.”

Mr. Jones frowned.  “I wasn’t all that injured.  I can’t say the same for MJ.”

“Good thing she’s pretty much healed, right?” Peter said.

Mr. Jones nodded.  “True.” 

The conversation faded and Peter seized the opportunity.  “I should get back.  Don’t want May stealing all of my fries,” Peter said, though the joke fell flat.  He made a move to the door but Mr. Jones side-stepped and stood right in front of Peter.  The expression on Mr. Jones was enough to make Peter’s hair on the back of his neck stand.  Peter rounded on the older man, who stared down at Peter with crossed arms and narrowed eyes.  Though Peter was smaller, he knew he was stronger, more capable; Peter wasn’t going to let himself be intimidated by MJ’s father.  “Is there something you want to talk about, Mr. Jones? Because I’d really like to get back to my friends.”

“Nothing in particular.  Just wanted to congratulate you on a job well done today,” Mr. Jones said.

Peter was still suspicious.  “Well, thanks.  I’ve worked hard this year.”

“I’m sure,” Mr. Jones said.  “And I’m even more impressed that you handled being under all that pressure, especially after everything that you’ve gone through this year.  MJ’s told me a lot about your anxiety.”

“Thanks,” Peter said.  “I’ve been working on it.”

“MJ also told a lot about you.  A lot,” Mr. Jones said.  The sound of that sent a shiver down Peter’s spine.  He didn’t think MJ would share Peter’s secret identity to her father but at the same time, Mr. Jones had a lot of power over MJ, whether she’d like to admit it or not.  

“Yeah.  Well, we dated so…”

Mr. Jones nodded.  “She really liked you, you know?” Mr. Jones said.  “It’s a real _shame_ that she broke up with you.”

“Yeah,” Peter said.  “It sucks but I’ll get over it.”

“That’s good.  Given your, uh, psychological issues, I wasn’t sure if you’d be able to recover all that well,” Mr. Jones said. He wasn’t going to let Mr. Jones push him around.  Mr. Jones smirked.  “Michelle, on the other hand, recovered pretty quickly from her heartbreak and from the car accident, too.”

“What’s your point?” Peter asked.  It was obvious how much Mr. Jones was trying to get under Peter’s skin.  It wasn’t going to happen, though.  Peter _wasn’t_ going to let Mr. Jones push him around.  “Because if you don’t have one, I’m leaving.”

“Straight to point.  I like people like that,” Mr. Jones said.

“And yet, you are not one of them,” Peter muttered. 

Mr. Jones frowned.  “I _know_ Michelle recovers quickly.  If something happens to her tonight, falls and gets a little banged up, you probably wouldn’t be able to notice by Monday.”

Peter’s blood went cold.  “What the hell are you implying?” Peter said. 

“Nothing,” Mr. Jones said, smugly.  Without saying anything else, Mr. Jones gave Peter one last serious look before stepping out of the bathroom.

Only, Peter wasn’t willing to let the conversation stop there.  He was angry at himself for getting MJ in trouble and angry at Mr. Jones for even threatening MJ that way.  “Hey!” Peter shouted, pushing the door open and going straight to Mr. Jones.

“Yes, Peter?” Mr. Jones said, as though he hadn’t said anything wrong.

“How could you say that about MJ?” Peter said.

Mr. Jones frowned.  “I care about my daughter, and I don’t think you should be lurking around our house anymore.”  There’s no way Mr. Jones could know about Spider-Man.  No way.  “That’s all I’m saying.”

“What’s going on?” Peter and Mr. Jones, who were standing face to face with each other, looked over to see Tony walking toward the two of them.  Tony’s expression was mixed with concern and suspicion.  “Is everything alright?” Tony said, going to stand beside Peter.

Mr. Jones wasn’t stupid enough to do anything in front of Tony Stark.  “I wanted to talk to Peter about the breakup.  I was under the impression that Peter broke up with MJ, not the other way around.”.

“Glad we clarified that, Mr. Jones,” Peter said behind an equally fake smile.

“Let’s get back, shall we?” Tony said. 

Even as Peter, Mr. Jones and Tony went back to the dinner table, it didn’t feel like the situation had diffused in the slightest.  Only, Mr. Jones put on quite an act for his kids and the team.  Mr. Jones spoke like he wasn’t angry at all and like there was no problem right now.  Mr. Jones was _damn_ good at acting, and that _scared_ Peter. 


	15. Failed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DISCLAIMER: I did a lot of research on how Child Protective Services handles these cases but the information I found was pretty limited so I’m sorry if I got anything wrong.

_“There are wounds that never show on the body,_

_that are deeper and more hurtful_

_than anything that bleeds.”_

~ Laurell K. Hamilton ~

Chapter Fifteen: Failed

The euphoria of winning regionals carried on throughout the rest of the night.  At least, for the time it did.  When Peter returned from that _terrifying_ and _unsettling_ conversation with Mr. Jones, the team was finished passing around the trophy and waiters had already come to refill water and give Gwen another drink.  No one seemed to notice the tension between Mr. Jones and Peter.  MJ knew something was a little off, not that Mr. Jones or Peter showed any sign of that.  She kept glancing back and forth between her father and then Peter.  Did Peter screw up again?  Is he putting MJ in even more danger now that he just entertained a terrible conversation with MJ’s father?  Even though Peter pretended to put on a smile for the sake of his teammates, it was hard not being a little distracted.

When the night was over, Peter had a to-go box of leftover pizza and was walking to May’s car with Tony by their side.  Peter glanced at MJ: her father, Kevin and MJ were walking to their car (some new one, considering that their old one was totaled in the accident).  It was hard to get a read to see if MJ really was uncomfortable.  Or if Mr. Jones was angry.  There wasn’t much time to figure out if anything was going to happen since May and Tony were ushering Peter into the back of his aunt’s CRV.  May cranked the heat up and turned down the old jazz music, Tony’s favorite. 

She turned to Peter.  “Did you have fun today?”

Peter nodded.  “Yeah.  It was a good day.”

“That’s good.  I’m glad you guys won,” she said.  Judging by the expression on May’s face, Peter knew that wasn’t the point behind engaging in this conversation.  “So, what was going on with that conversation between you and Mr. Jones?  Tony said things got pretty heated.”

“Heated isn’t the word that I used,” Tony corrected, though he didn’t look like he was about to swoop in and help Peter out right now. 

Peter’s face flushed hot.  May didn’t know anything about the real reason why Mr. Jones and Peter were so tense with each other, and Peter couldn’t just spill the beans to May, either.  It was bad enough with Tony lurking over his head all the time.  “It’s really nothing,” Peter said.  “When MJ was talking to her father about the breakup, it made it seem like I had broken up with her because… I didn’t think she was good for me.  You know.  With all the… issues I have.”  _That_ was a low blow on himself, and it sucked saying those words at loud.  But it was a good plan.  May wouldn’t push the situation about MJ if it meant that Peter was going to be bringing up touchy topics.

“And he’s knows that’s not true?” May said.  She looked visibly upset.  Peter hated upsetting May, especially because his anxiety and PTSD had taken a severe toll on May, only, Peter needed this conversation to be over.

Peter nodded.  “Yeah.”

“Why _did_ you guys break up?” May asked. 

Tony glanced at Peter through the rearview mirror, a look that Peter pretended not to see.  Peter figured the real reason behind the breakup was that her father didn’t like Peter.  Maybe Mr. Jones felt threatened that MJ being around May and Peter all the time would make MJ realize what a _healthy_ family relationship looked like.  Maybe MJ was spending too much time with Peter, that _Peter_ was giving MJ too much individuality and independence, so her dad demanded MJ to end the relationship.  “It doesn’t matter,” Peter finally said when he couldn’t figure out what a good answer was.  “She just didn’t like me anymore and she thought it’d be wrong for her to lead me on.”  Normally that’s a good excuse, right?  “Can we just change the subject?  I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”

May wasn’t stupid enough (or cruel enough) to continue the conversation with Peter.  Traffic was pretty heavy so it took a pretty long time to get from the diner and back to Peter’s apartment, where he saw Tony’s Audi parked out front.  Peter was surprised that Tony was so willing to drive such a nice car, not that this area was all that dangerous… but still.  Peter tried to follow May briskly back to their apartment, but Tony caught Peter quickly; with May out of the way, Tony could finally talk about what’s been bothering him.

“So, what conversation did you really have with Mr. Jones?” Tony asked. 

Peter groaned.  “Tony, I really don’t want to have this conversation right now.  Look, it wasn’t all that big of a deal.”

“Really?  Because it looked like you were going to rip his head off if I hadn’t come in there to stop you,” Tony said.

“Seriously, it’s alright,” Peter said.  He wasn’t a great actor and Tony could see through lies pretty easily, but that wasn’t something Peter had time to worry about right now.

“Peter—,” Tony said with a frown.

“Sorry, Mr. Stark.  Got to go,” Peter said bursting into his apartment. 

Even though Peter was trying hard to suggest that the conversation with Mr. Jones wasn’t a big deal, that couldn’t have been more wrong.  He was distracted the whole night about the conversation.  What if so much as seeing Peter tonight was enough to set Mr. Jones off in all the wrong ways?  What if MJ got hurt?  What if Kevin got hurt?  And, how did Mr. Jones know about Peter ‘lurking’ around their house at night?  Peter’s imagination was getting the worst of him.  There was a lot of reasons why Mr. Jones might tell Peter to stop ‘lurking.’  Mr. Jones could be referring to Peter coming over to their house and stopping Mr. Jones from hurting his kids.  Or he could be referring to the time that Peter came to MJ’s house that night on her birthday?  Or all the times that Peter had been watching their house as _Spider-Man?_ That scared Peter the most because what if Mr. Jones knew that Peter was Spider-Man?

Peter still went on rounds that night.  Maybe it wasn’t the best idea doing rounds when he was this distracted but he felt obligated to do _something_.  There was a part of him that also wanted to go to MJ’s house, check to see if any of his suspicions were confirmed.  Only, Peter didn’t think that’d be a good idea yet.  If there was a chance that Mr. Jones would be able to find out if Peter was scoping out the area, Peter didn’t want to risk getting MJ hurt.  Instead, Peter focused on regular rounds.  It was a pretty low stress night, which was good.  The worst ‘fight’ that Peter got involved in was with some guy trying to jack a nice car.  Nothing a little bit of web couldn’t handle.  Peter finished the night with tipping the cops off about a drunk driver.  He was about halfway home when he felt his phone go off (there was a little secure place in his suit where Peter could keep his cell phone — a new addition to the Iron-Spider suit).

At first, Peter assumed it was Ned calling to hangout.  But, it wasn’t.  It was MJ.  Peter clicked answer and the screen filled with a blurry picture of her face.  Only, she wasn’t her normal self.  She looked panicked, _scared._ Tears were in her eyes.  “Peter!” she managed. 

He stopped short, catching himself on the edge of a rooftop and swinging up to find a stable position.  “MJ?  What’s going on?  Are you okay?”

“I was — I was wrong!  I should’ve listened to you,” she managed.  Peter couldn’t tell what was going on with her or even where she was.  She was moving pretty fast so her surroundings were blurred together as she moved.  “Kevin, Kevin stay here with me!”  Peter barely saw the outline of her little brother on the ground, looking equally as terrified as MJ.  Peter thought he heard what sounded like a door closing. 

“Should’ve listened to me about what?” Peter yelled. 

“My — my dad!” she screamed. “He — he hit Kevin.  He’s never done that before.  I need… I don’t know what to do.”

Peter felt his legs turn to lead at the words.  That pain of being shot at the beginning of the year, the sickening feeling of realizing that the Vulture was Liz’s dad, nothing like that compared to what Peter was feeling right now.  “MJ, get out of your house.  I’m going to call the police.  I’m coming to you!” he shouted, though he was already on the move, scrambling, running, _soaring_ through the air as he maneuvered his way to MJ’s house.

“I can’t get out of the house.  He’s right outside my door.  Oh my god,” she whispered. 

“Hey, it’s going to be okay!” Peter said, breathlessly.  “I’ll be there in—”

The sound of MJ’s door being thrown up stopped Peter short.  She must have standing by the door or at least was trying to hold it closed because the sheer force of Mr. Jones thrusting the door open sent MJ stumbling to the ground.  Her phone dropped.  The camera shook, catching a glimpse of the light in her hallway.  Either Kevin or MJ screamed — the phone clunking on the ground made it hard to tell the difference between the two.  She made a mad scramble to her phone, but she didn’t reach it.  Peter couldn’t get a great look at what was happening, but it looked like Mr. Jones was grabbing hold of MJ, his face in a fit of rage.

“Oh my god,” Peter whispered.

“Stop!  Let go of me!” she screamed.

MJ fell.  Honestly, Peter couldn’t tell if she fell because Mr. Jones hit her or because he threw her aside.  She shrieked.  Again, MJ made a move toward her phone and —

The line went dead. 

“Shit!” Peter yelled.  “Karen, what do I do?”

“I’m already contacting the police right now!” his AI said hysterically.  “And I’m sending Mr. Stark an SOS and your location.”

A second later, the call Karen was already sending out to 911 connected.  “9-1-1.  What’s your emergency?”

“I think my girlfriend’s dad is attacking her right now!” Peter managed.  “I think he’s trying to hurt or something.  I don’t know.  You need to send — you need to send the police or Child Protective Services.  I don’t know!  Send someone!”

“What’s the address?” the operator said, calmly.  How could someone be calm in a time like this?

“4012 Jefferson Way!” Peter yelled.  He flew past the bank that was down the street from MJ’s house.  He’s was going to be able to save her.  She wasn’t going to get hurt.  He could _help her_.

“We’re sending units now to check it out.  They should be there in a few minutes,” the operator said.  “In the meantime, you need to stay away from the sight.  Let the authorities handle it.”

“Her dad could kill her!” Peter yelled.

“We understand that you’re scared and worried about your girlfriend, but there are people that are handle these kinds of things.  Getting yourself involved may cause more harm to your girlfriend than necessary.  You don’t want your girlfriend to be hurt, do you?” the operator said, soothingly.

“No,” Peter managed, but he didn’t stop moving. 

“Okay.  Just stay away from her house for now.  We’ll be sending units over there.  What’s your name, son?” the operator asked.

Peter bit his lip.  “Peter.  Peter Parker.”

“Okay, Peter.  I’m glad you called the police.  We’re going to see if your girlfriend is okay.  We’ll handle this,” the operator said.  “Do not go inside her house.  Do you understand?”

“Yeah,” Peter managed.  He was in her neighborhood now.

“The responding officers are four minutes away.  Would you like me to stay on the line with you?” the operator asked.

“No.  That’s okay,” Peter said.

“Okay.  What’s your location so that the responding officers can come meet you and take your statement?” the operator asked.

“I’m—…” Peter’s mind went blank momentarily.  “I’m at the convenient store a couple blocks away.  She called me when everything was happening,” Peter lied.

“Okay.  Stay there.  When the officers are finished at her house, they’ll come to the store.  Are you with an adult?  Is there anyone you can call?” the operator asked.

“I’m alone.”

“Call your guardian.  Have them wait with you.  Your girlfriend is going to be okay, Peter,” the operator reassured, though it didn’t take a genius to see through that empty promise. 

“Thank you,” Peter said and hung up the phone.

He had no intention of listening to the operator, though.  MJ’s house was in sight and Peter was dressed as Spider-Man so it wasn’t like he had to worry about Mr. Jones getting any angrier if he saw Peter.  Peter swung down onto the driveway of MJ’s house.  Only, the driveway was empty.  Their car was gone and the front door was left wide open.  _No._ Peter went racing forward.  He leapt into the living room, standing in the middle of what looked like an empty house. 

“MJ?” Peter yelled.  Not patient enough to take the stairs, Peter flung a web at the top railing of the staircase and flung himself onto the second floor.  He went straight to her bedroom.  The door was wide open.  Her light was still on and inside… “Oh my god.  Oh my god…” Peter said.  He could feel his tears soaking through his Iron-Spider mask.  “No.  No, no, no!”

Her room was empty and an absolute mess.  Clothes were strewn across her floor, as though someone had dug through her closet and thrown the contents on the ground.  Her cell phone was sitting in the middle of the floor.  Peter ran out of MJ’s room and into Kevin’s.  It was in the same condition: empty with clothes and belongings everywhere.  They weren’t in the house.  Mr. Jones wasn’t in the house.  All their cellphones were gone.  The possible explanations of this situation were endless, but Peter couldn’t shake the feeling that they were alone somewhere with their father.  A man who tries to hurt them.

Mr. Jones was MJ’s father.  Mr. Jones was responsible for providing for his children.  Mr. Jones was well aware of the power and influence that he had over his children, and Mr. Jones abused that power.  The man convinced his kids that he had absolute authority over them, that their opinions didn’t mean anything, that they needed to be submissive to his every command to be remotely successful.  And if either of them disobeyed, her father would hurt them.  Mentally.  Emotionally.  Physically.  It was wrong, _illegal_ and someone needed to stop Mr. Jones.  Maybe MJ and Kevin both didn’t want Peter to get involved and they weren’t in the right head space to want Peter to help, but that didn’t matter.  It was Peter’s responsibility to take care of the little people, the people that couldn’t always protect themselves.

And he _failed them_. 

Peter’s train of thought was interrupted by the sound of footsteps below.  _The police._ If Peter’s head wasn’t so clouded with fear, he probably would have managed to sneak into MJ’s bedroom and out of the way.  Only —

“Is that Spider-Man?” the police asked.  The police really weren’t a fan of Spider-Man.  Something about humiliating them.  Taking their jobs.  Vigilantism was menace to society.  Peter really wasn’t in the mood to deal with the police.  “What are you doing here?”

“Voice Modifier,” Peter muttered.  “I saw the door was open and I thought something may have been wrong, but there’s no one here.”  Trying to talk as though this fact had no emotional impact on Peter felt altogether impossible.  “What happened here?”

“We—” one of the police officer started.

“Don’t need to tell you anything,” the other interrupted, sending their partner a furious glance.  “We’re trying to do our jobs right now.”

Normally, Peter would have put a fight with the officers but he knew that he was supposed to be waiting at the convenient store right now.  “Well, clearly you have the situation under control,” Peter muttered. 

He flipped over the side of the railing, dodged the police and then ran out of MJ’s house.  He wasn’t going to let himself think too hard about why MJ wasn’t home or, if she really was somewhere with her father, what would be happening to her.  There were too many other important responsibilities that Peter needed to care of before he lets himself really start to freak out.  Peter knew exactly what convenient store he was supposed to head to, only he didn’t have a spare change of clothes, which meant Tony or May had to get there fast.  As Peter traveled from rooftop to rooftop, from branch to branch, he had Karen called Tony.  Peter never used the SOS signal before, this new invention in Peter’s suit that signaled to Tony that Peter needed help, so Peter wasn’t sure what to expect.

As the call connected to Mr. Stark, a blurb of his face appeared in the corner of Peter’s vision.  The man looked greatly concerned.  “Peter, is everything alright?  I got your SOS.”

Peter could really feel reality blurring away, but he had to be strong right now.  Strong for MJ.  “Tony, something happened at MJ’s house tonight.  And, uh, I don’t know where she is but I think she’s in trouble.”

“I’m already on your way.  FRIDAY is following the tracking suit in your suit,” Tony said.  Peter could tell that man was trying to keep his own fear in control as he tried to help the erratic teenager.

“I called the police already and they’re already at her house.  I’m — I’m supposed to be waiting by some convenient store down the street.  I, uh, I need a spare change of clothes.  I’m in the suit and I can’t… the police are supposed to question me and I can’t—” Peter barely managed.

“Okay, okay,” Tony interrupted, holding his hand up.  “I’ll get clothes for you.  Just stay where you are.  I’ll get FRIDAY to contact Aunt May for you.  She’ll meet us at the convenient store.  Is that alright with you?”

Peter nodded.  “Yeah.  May would be good.”

“Okay,” Tony said.  He was trying to be rational and keep his composure for Peter’s sake, probably, but there was a disparaging look in Tony’s eyes.  “Peter, what do you think happened to MJ?”  It was obviously a question that Tony probably already knew the answer to, but he must have needed to hear Peter to say it. 

For a split second, Peter felt his throat clench up.  He wasn’t even sure how he was supposed to tell an adult something this serious.  But everything else didn’t matter.  All that fear about her exposing his secret identity (or her father _knowing_ about his secret identity and exposing it) didn’t matter.  If Peter had to sacrifice his biggest secret for the sake of another person’s safety, he had to be okay with it.  Even if this was some random stranger, not a girl who Peter loved, it wouldn’t matter to him.  It was Spider-Man’s obligation to protect the citizens of New York. 

“The other week, I walked in on MJ’s dad attacking her.  I didn’t — I didn’t say anything because she was scared.  She wasn’t going to testify against her father.  I had no proof,” Peter managed.  His face was becoming increasingly hot and the suit was becoming too tight and Peter felt like the world was spinning out of control.  “I was so scared and confused and I didn’t know what to do.  I didn’t want to hurt MJ and I could tell that if I turned her father in, it would have hurt her.  Oh god, but now something serious may have happened to her and it’s my fault and—”

“Okay, okay, okay,” Tony interrupted.  “Peter’s, there are people handling the situation right now.  There are people who are there to protect Michelle and Kevin from this kind of stuff.  It’s not your responsibility anymore, okay?  You did the right thing by the calling the police this time.  It’s going to be alright.”

Is it?  What if the police can’t find MJ?  What if they did find it, but not before Mr. Jones severely hurts her?  The more and more Peter thought about what Mr. Jones was capable of, the more terrified he felt.  This abuse had been going on for years.  Who knows how bad the abuse has gotten?  Who knows what Kevin and MJ has faced?  Peter could feel his heart racing so fast he thought it was going to fly out his chest.  The feeling of a panic attack, of anxiety taking over Peter’s brain, was coming fast.  Peter was frustrated and mad at himself.  This wasn’t about him!  He couldn’t make this situation about his anxiety or his problems!  He had to be there for MJ.  This was about _finding_ MJ.

Peter didn’t have to hide by the convenient store for too long.  Tony wasn’t driving one of his conspicuous cars that would attract attention of everyone walking down the street, which was good because they had to meet in some dark alley so that Tony could drop off the spare change of clothes.  It was something comfortable, _thank god,_ a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt.  Getting changed in warm, loose-fitting clothing felt like a breath of fresh air.  After Peter was dressed, May came speeding down the street and did a hurried, pretty crappy parking job next to Tony’s car.  Peter wasn’t sure how much Tony had told May but she looked worried.  Very worried.  Though she wasn’t wearing her pajama pants, Peter recognized the graphic tee she had on under some old jacket as part of her pajama set.

“Peter?  What’s going on?” May asked, frantically.  She ran forward to take Peter in his arms and press a kiss to his forehead.  “Tony said that something was wrong.”

“May,” Peter started, tears filling his eyes, “I think something happened with MJ.”

May frowned.  “Is that about your breakup?”

“No, it’s…” Peter couldn’t even bring himself to finish the second.

When Peter didn’t continue, May turned to Tony for answers.  Tony sighed.  “There’s a really good chance that Michelle’s father is… _abusive_.”

May stared at Tony and Peter for a long second.  “I’m sorry.  I don’t understand…”

“The other week I walked in on MJ’s father trying to hurt Kevin and MJ,” Peter finally said.  He quickly explained the story for a second time.  This was the first time that May had heard anything remotely like this, and she looked increasingly paler.  “And then tonight, she called me hysterical and her father burst into her room and then…”  Peter stopped himself again because everything felt all wrong and he couldn’t get that image of her terrified face out of his mind.  “I called the police.  They’re over at her house now and they’re supposed to come here to take my statement.  But I don’t… I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.  What if she gets hurt because of…”

“Hey, just take a breath,” Tony said.  He and May both knew the signs of a panic attack so they ushered Peter to one of the benches out front of the convenient store.  “Here.  Take this.”  Tony stripped out of his own jacket and threw it around Peter’s shoulders, comfortingly.  “It’s going to be okay.  Let’s just let May and I talk right now.”

Peter’s eyes were ringing so much from the pain that he could barely comprehend what Tony and May were saying to each other.  They moved closer to the door of the convenient store where they spoke quietly.  Peter could have heard what they were saying if he wanted to but he was too exhausted.  Not to mention, Peter wasn’t interested in hearing how he was wrong not to tell the adults the truth about MJ.  There was a lot of mistakes that Peter had made in his life, and the fact that one of his mistakes could genuinely bring harm to Michelle and Kevin only made matters worse.  He glanced at May and Tony occasionally.  The more and more Tony spoke, the more distressed May appeared.  She pressed her hand against her forehead, nervously. 

The adults walked over to Peter after a long second.  May didn’t say anything to Peter, but she slumped beside Peter and pulled him into a hug.  “I’m so sorry you had to keep this to yourself,” May whispered.  It wasn’t exactly the response that Peter expected, but having his aunt’s arms around him felt so damn relaxing and comforting that Peter wasted no time engulfing himself in her arms.

May didn’t let go of Peter all the way up until the police showed up.  It was just one officer, some guy that looked so young compared to the officers _Spider-Man_ has tussled with before.  He must have been twenty-four at the oldest, probably fresh out of the academy, just on-call and happened to get stuck with the domestic violence call.  The officer parked right in front of Peter, May and Tony.  He was dressed in his uniform, attracting attention of the families traveling in and out of the convenient store, like they’ve never seen a cop before.  Tony straightened up from where he was standing and walked over to the officer. 

“Are you with Peter Parker?” the officer asked.

Tony nodded.  “Yeah.  He’s, uh, he’s the kid sitting on the bench.  I’m Tony Stark.  I’m, uh, he’s my… he’s one of my interns.  He’s a good kid.”

“Officer O’Reilly,” the man said.  “At 10:43 tonight, we received a 9-1-1 call from Mr. Parker about a domestic violence case from his girlfriend’s house?  Does that sound familiar?”

“Yeah.  Yeah, that’s us,” Tony said.  He led the officer over to Peter and May, who still hadn’t let go of Peter. 

“And are you his mother?” Officer O’Reilly asked.

May nodded.  “Aunt, but closest thing he has to a mother.”  She held out her hand for the officer to shake it.

“Did you find Michelle?” Peter burst out.

Officer O’Reilly’s face softened.  He knelt down in front of Peter.  “Look, son, we had a few police officers search the home and ask a couple of neighbors around the Jones’s house.  Their next-door neighbors heard some shouting and then a car driving away, but that’s it.  We haven’t found your girlfriend, her father or her younger brother.” 

A part of Peter already knew they didn’t find Michelle or her brother but hearing the police officer say it aloud made the situation all the more serious.  Peter put his head in his hands as he let out a throaty, terrified moan.  “This can’t be happening right now.  I should have done something.  I should have—”  Peter chest was tightening up so much that his ability to speak was all but stifled together.  “Oh god.  Oh god.  It’s my fault.  Her dad is gonna kill her because of me—” 

This was nothing compared to how severe the panic attack Peter had at Grand South-Leeds, but it was debilitating.  Peter felt like his limbs were going numb.  He felt flustered.  _Terrified_.  There was nothing Peter could do, and he knew that.  It was the first time that Peter truly had felt completely helpless.

“Is he alright?” Officer O’Reilly asked.

May shook her head.  “He has… he’s get anxiety attacks.  Peter, it’s going to be okay.  You’re safe.  MJ is going to be safe.”  Peter’s mind was blurring together so much that he could barely register what May was saying.  “Do you think you could get him some water?”

“I’ll grab it,” Officer O’Reilly said.

“Will you try something?” May asked.

“Yeah,” Tony said.  He knelt down beside Peter, putting his arms around the teenager.  “Peter, you have to listen to me.  I know you’re scared.  I know you feel overwhelmed.  I know you feel like you’ve failed that people that rely on you the most.  Trust me, I’ve been there before, Peter.  But you’re better this.  You’re stronger than this.  You can beat this.  I _know_ you can.  And right now, if you want to help Michelle and Kevin, you _have_ to hold it together.  You need to give your statement to the police and they will figure out what to do from there.  Can you do that for Michelle?”

Peter’s head was still throbbing but he could feel the nausea subsiding.  “Alright.  Alright, I’m okay,” Peter finally managed.  _Okay_ , not in the sense that Peter _felt_ alright, but okay that he wouldn’t pass out if someone mentioned Michelle again.  “Are the police at least searching for Michelle and Kevin?”

The officer frowned.  “You’re not searching for them?” May gasped.

Officer O’Reilly held his hands up.  “Ma’am, with domestic violence calls, it’s tricky.  We check out the situation and if there really is something serious going on, then we’ll normally just arrest both parties and keep them in separate holding cells until they calm down.  But, there was no one there.  We can’t even be sure if the shouting came from their house.  There’s no reason for us to believe that Michelle or Kevin Jones are in any danger.”

“Bullshit!” Peter shouted.  “Her dad hits them!  He was pissed off at them tonight and he tried hurt them and Michelle tried to run!  They’re somewhere out there!”  The people around the four of them were turning to stare, but Peter didn’t care.  How could this cop be so dismissive of the fact?  “Your job is to serve and protect, and you’re not doing anything to help her!”

May put her hand on Peter’s shoulder.  She turned to the officer.  “Can’t this be considered child kidnapping or something?  There has to be something you can do.”

Officer O’Reilly frowned.  “This situation is more complicated than that.  Normally, child kidnapping applies when it’s a custody battle.  Mr. Jones — Darrell Jones — is Michelle and Kevin’s only parent.  He has sole responsibility over his own kids, which also means that he can take his kids wherever he wants.”

“But, he hurts them!” Peter shouted.  “The other week, I heard fighting from the Jones’ house.  When I ran inside, I caught Mr. Jones was trying to attack Kevin.  MJ tried to stop him so he pushed her into this table in their entryway.  I’ve seen it happen and it was happening against tonight!  You need to do something about it!”

Again, the officer looked frustrated.  “Alright, look, let me be honest with you.  It’s hard to handle domestic violence calls when there’s no one in the house.  Not to mention we’ve never had a complaint against Darrel Jones before.  I’m sorry but there’s no reason for us to believe that there’s something wrong.”  Obviously, Peter, Tony and May didn’t look happy with the response so Officer O’Reilly sighed.  “Alright, here’s the best I can do for you: I’ve got a friend up at Child Protective Services in Pomona.  The guy owes me a favor.  I can give him a call, let him know that you guys are heading up there right now to file a report.”

“And what’s a report going to do if the Jones aren’t even in New York?” May said.

“CPS will investigate your claim and if the case is legitimate, they could have grounds to file a missing person’s report and have the legal authority to remove your girlfriend and her brother from their father’s care.  Do you understand what I’m saying to you, son?” Officer O’Reilly asked.

Peter nodded.  “Yeah.  You’re telling me there’s a way to help Michelle and her brother!” 

The office nodded.  “That’s true.  I am saying that.  I’m also saying that you need proof and you need to understand what’s going to happen to your girlfriend and brother if you have a legitimate case.”

“They’ll be taken away from someone who _hurts_ them,” Peter said.

“And that someone also happens to be their father,” Officer O’Reilly said.  He held up his hands, “Now, I’m not saying you’re lying or you’re wrong.  I’m just saying that after you file a report, these things don’t magically go away in a couple of weeks.  Michelle and her brother could be dealing with ramifications for years to come.  Child abuse cases are sensitive and they can get ugly _fast_.”

Peter didn’t do heavy research on what happens after he reports to CPS about what Mr. Jones does, but he figured, at the very least, MJ and her brother wouldn’t have to live with him anymore.  Peter didn’t stop to think where they would go.  Who would take care of MJ and Kevin if their father lost custody over them?  And the evidence…  Peter didn’t really have any.  He knew what he saw and he _knew_ that Mr. Jones hurts his kids, but what if CPS doesn’t believe Peter?  It wasn’t like MJ and Kevin were there to testify against their father.  It wasn’t like CPS could see what their home life was really like if Mr. Jones fled. 

“Peter?” May asked.

“Okay, yeah,” Peter said.  “I’ll understand.”

Officer O’Reilly nodded.  “Okay.  Let me give my friend a call.”  The officer walked over to his car where he was out of earshot (or, at least he thought he was out of earshot) from Peter, Tony and May.

Tony and May looked away at Peter.  “Peter, do you have any evidence of Mr. Jones hurting MJ?”

Peter frowned.  At first, Peter was sure that this was where he would fail MJ.  He didn’t think he had any evidence that would prove CPS of Mr. Jones’s guilt.  But when Peter realized that he _did_ have damning evidence, he didn’t think he could contain himself.  “I, yeah, yeah I do,” Peter said.  He leaned forward to gather May and Tony in further.  “She facetimed me while I was in the suit and it records everything, right?”

The look of understanding on Tony’s face led to a surge of relief coursing through Peter’s body.  “Yeah.  Yeah, it does.  I can get FRIDAY to uphold tonight’s video streams onto a disc.  We can obviously edit some parts out, but—”

“That would work?” Peter said.

Tony nodded.  “I mean, it’s the best we got.”  He pressed the ear piece on the side of his head (Peter didn’t even notice that Tony was _wearing_ an ear piece) and said, “FRIDAY, can you start going through the video camera on Peter’s suit form tonight?  Look for anything that has Michelle Jones in it.  You know what she looks like.”  Peter really didn’t know how FRIDAY knew what MJ looked like, but he figured that could be a conversation for a later time. 

With hopefully what could be a damning piece of evidence against Mr. Jones, Peter looked on to Office O’Reilly.  “I called my friend.  He normally doesn’t come in on Sundays but he’ll make an exception for you guys after I explained your situation to him.”  Officer O’Reilly pulled out his notepad, jotted down a couple of things, ripped off the first sheet of paper and then handed it to May.  “His name is George Kernan.  That his number on there.  He’s a good guy and he cares about his work.  If he believes that MJ and Kevin are in serious danger, then he’ll do his best to help your friends.  I can promise you that.  He said that he’ll be able to meet with you guys tomorrow morning at nine.”

Even though that frustrated Peter that they had to wait until tomorrow morning (who knows what Mr. Jones is capable of doing to MJ and Kevin in one night, especially when he’s this angry?), Peter also knew this was the best and safest way to help them.  Officer O’Reilly asked Peter a couple more questions about the phone call before giving May the address for the Child Protective Services office in Pomona.  Watching Officer O’Reilly leave, and probably head to the station or to another crime scene, Peter felt kind of shitty inside.  May and Tony staring down at Peter, with these wide eyes, didn’t help, either.  It wasn’t like them to judge Peter for what happened, but this was a serious situation so obviously the two adults weren’t going to _not_ discuss it with him. 

“Are you alright?” May finally asked. 

Peter nodded.  “Uh, yeah.  I guess.  I mean, I’m really scared but…”

“I know,” May said.  “And you know Tony and I believe you, right?”

There wasn’t a single part in Peter that thought otherwise.  “Yeah.”  He glanced at Tony and May, feeling absolutely foolish that he hadn’t gone to them beforehand.  What was Peter thinking?  How could he be scared of Mr. Jones hurting MJ if Spider-Man, Iron Man _and_ Dr. Strange were on MJ’s side?  “I’m sorry I didn’t go to you guys earlier.  I was just… I was scared.  MJ wasn’t going to testify against her father and I had no proof.”

“We could have helped,” Tony said, though he didn’t sound angry.

Peter sighed.  “I know.  God, it’s my fault, isn’t it?  She and Kevin are in danger right now, and I could have done something about it if I had acted earlier.”

“There’s nothing you can do about it now,” Tony said.

That wasn’t completely true.  There _was_ something Peter could.  Or really, something that Spider-Man could do.  Peter’s hacked into plenty of security cameras, has tracked down plenty of criminals.  Trying to find MJ would be no different.  And Mr. Jones wouldn’t be a match for Spider-Man. 

A part of Peter was seriously considering this plan, but his thoughts were clear to Tony, as though they were written on Peter’s arm.  “Peter,” Tony said.  “You can’t go after her.  You know that, right?”  When Peter didn’t respond, Tony continued.  “Peter, you do realize that if Spider-Man takes MJ away and there’s no case against Mr. Jones, you’re not going to help anyone.  You have to let the proper authorities take care of this.  You can’t be the one to go after her.  You’re only going to make things worse.”

Only, Peter didn’t understand.  “I have to go after her.”

“No, Peter.  That will make things _worse_ ,” Tony said.  “You have to remember that there are people who are certified to handle this sort of thing.  I’m sorry, but Spider-Man is not one of them.”  When Peter still didn’t look content with the solution, Tony changed the way he approached the situation.  “At least wait until CPS determines whether or not they should remove MJ and Kevin from their father’s custody.  Can you do that for me?”

Peter knew all he wanted to do was put on his Spider-Man suit, get Karen to start tracking her father’s car (there had to have been a shot of her father’s CRV licenses plates somewhere in Peter’s video logs) and then find MJ.  Only, Peter knew he had to listen to Tony, especially since May and Tony didn’t let Peter out of their sight that night.  Though they mentioned something about Peter being in a delicate place with everything going on and everything that he’s been bottling up for the best couple of weeks, Peter knew that they were just watching him to make sure he didn’t try anything stupid, like sneaking out that night.  However annoyed Peter felt about being babysat that night, it was nice to have company, especially when Peter was so damn worried about MJ.  Tony stayed the night at Peter and May’s apartment, though no one really slept.  Tony and Peter went through the surveillance videos until they found the small clip from tonight.  Rewatching the video, seeing how distraught and terrified MJ was and how violently her father treated her, made Peter’s eyes fill with tears.

“Oh… MJ,” May sniffled.  “We should have noticed earlier, shouldn’t we?”

“They hid it really well,” Peter said.  He felt so numb inside.

“They must have gotten good at getting their stories straight,” Tony said.  “It must have gone on for years.”

Peter nodded.  “I think it did.”

“I’ll make sure to bring this tomorrow,” Tony said as he finished downloading the video onto a separate disc.  “How are you going to explain to the social worker that you were able to record this video while your phone is being used to FaceTime your girlfriend?”

Peter didn’t think about that.  “Um, I can tell them I was working on my history project.  We have to record a video for it so I can say that I was doing that last night,” Peter said.  It wasn’t a _complete_ lie.  Yes, Peter wasn’t working on the project but he actually did have to record a video for his project. 

“Will they question him about that?” May asked.

Tony shook his head.  “Hopefully not.  And if they do, that’s something we’re worry about later.  Do you want to try to sleep?”

“I don’t think I can go to bed,” Peter admitted.  Fortunately, the adults didn’t argue with him on that point.  To keep each other distracted, they played board games, watched movies, baked, talked for hours.  They barely slept that night, which meant that Sunday morning, they were nice and exhausted and even unhappier. 

Tony finished up the last of the coffee in the pot that morning.  “At least getting no sleep meant having plenty of time to cook breakfast,” he muttered in front of his omelet.

May ignored Tony.  “You should try to sleep in the car.  It’ll be a pretty long drive,” she said to Peter, putting her hands on his shoulders. 

“Yeah.  Maybe I’ll try,” Peter said.   

It really wasn’t as long of a drive as May made it seem.  It was an hour and twenty minutes from Peter’s apartment but traffic was light, which meant that May could drive pretty fast.  Still, Peter curled up in the corner of her CRV, his jacket draped over him and he put his head against the window.  The cool glass felt nice against his head.  His eyelids becoming suddenly heavy, Peter dozed off without a problem.  When he woke up, he didn’t exactly feel all that refreshed since he was going on such few hours of sleep over the past couple of days, but an hour of sleep was something. 

The Child Protective Services agency wasn’t exactly busy on Sunday morning so May got a good parking spot near the front.  Inside, it was a pretty mild atmosphere, nothing more than a receptionist sitting behind a glass window, eyes glued on her computer and then a few cubicles in the main room.  The place looked desolate.  Like there wasn’t a single shred of vibrant colors or happiness left.  Like every single little cubicle was nothing but a small prison for the workers and that every case that falls on their lap is another shit-show of an unhappy family that, somehow, the worker is responsible to care for and fix.  Maybe that was being too pessimistic, but standing in _Child Protective Services_ on a _weekend_ , of all places, because your ex-girlfriend is missing justified Peter’s feelings.

May and Tony went up to the receptionist.  The adults exchanged a few words before May said, “Thank you,” and then turned her back on the receptionist. 

Peter followed the two adults back a few rows to one of the only occupied cubicles.  Perched at his desk was man probably in his late forties, with thin tufts of brown hair and a very harsh receding hairline.  The man wore crooked, _huge_ glasses behind which were very large brown eyes that stared up at the three people approaching him.  Peter couldn’t imagine what that man was thinking when he saw Tony Stark, of all people, standing in Child Protective Services.  “You must be Peter and May Parker,” the social worker said, standing up from his desk and shaking Peter, May and Tony’s hand.  “And, of course, I know who you are, Mr. Stark.  I’m George Kernan.”

“Sorry we had to meet on these circumstances,” Tony said, shaking Mr. Kernan’s hand. 

“Right,” Mr. Kernan said.  “If you would like — I know it’s a little cramped here — we can move to one of the conference rooms.”

“Oh, we’re alright here,” Tony said. 

“In that case, why don’t you guys pull up some chairs?  I can grab another one,” Mr. Kernan said.  The social worker went to the cubicle next to his to grab a spare chair, which Peter took.  Mr. Kernan settled in his own chair in front of his computer.  He clasped his hands and said, “So, I received a call from Officer O’Reilly last night about a potential child abuse case.”

“Yeah.  I was the one who called the police,” Peter said.

“You’re…” —Mr. Kernan paused to go through some of his notes—, “Ms. Michelle Jones’s boyfriend?”

Peter sighed.  “Technically, she’s my ex.  I just, I got caught up in the moment and said…”  His face flushed red.  It was such an insignificant detail to the whole affair that last night, but Peter was getting so flustered.  And if he was getting flustered about that—

“It’s alright.  Emotions can run high in these situations,” Mr. Kernan said.  He clipped a few pieces of paper onto a clipboard, grabbed a pen and looked at Peter head on.  “There’s a few preliminary questions that I have to fill out first.”  It was pretty routine, nothing that was too difficult for Peter to answer: his relationship to MJ, a little of personal info on Peter and then a little bit of personal information on MJ.  “Alright.  That’s just routine things we need to fill out.  Now, I want to focus on the story.  Why do you think Michelle and her younger brother are being abused?”

“I have — she FaceTimed me last night.  I have a video of the conversation,” Peter said.  “Really, it’s all the concrete evidence I have.”

He handed the disc to Mr. Kernan.  “And it’s from last night?”

“Yeah,” Peter said.

Mr. Kernan wrote something down on his notepad.  “We will go over the video in a little bit.  Right now, I want to talk a little bit more about MJ and her family.  When did you start suspecting that her father was abusive?”

“Not until her sixteenth birthday.  She loves to paint and she’s really good at it, so I got her these art supplies for her birthday, but she told me that her father doesn’t her artwork.  I’m pretty sure she said that he destroyed it, even though it’s one of the few things that makes her really happy,” Peter said.  He didn’t tell May this, so he could see how visibly upset she looked and how desperate she was trying to keep her reaction check. 

“Is that the only instance of emotional abuse you can think of?” Mr. Kernan asked.

Peter shrugged.  “I don’t know.  There’s a lot of subtle thing that MJ says to me that always strikes me as odd.  The night of our winter dance for my high school, her dad wasn’t home and she said that it was _safe_ for me to come in.  Not that he wouldn’t be mad or anything.  Sometimes Mr. Jones disappears for weekends.  A lot of times MJ is responsible for taking care of her and her brother.”  All while Peter was speaking, the stupider and stupider he felt for not noticing something was wrong with her father even sooner.  Jeez, it was like the warning signs were all in front of him and he was just too _blind_ to notice what was happening.  “And he had really strict rules.  If she broke it, it was the like the end of the world.”

“Sometimes abusive parents are very controlling of their kids,” Mr. Kernan said while he vigorously wrote down everything that Peter was saying. 

“The more I think about it, the more I realize how scared she would act whenever she thought she might do something her father wouldn’t like,” Peter said.

“That’s normal,” Mr. Kernan said.  “Did you confront her about your suspicions after her birthday?”

It took Peter a second to calm down after thinking about MJ so intently.  “I don’t think I understood what was happening.  We got in a fight.  And one night, we were supposed to meet up and talk about what happened but she got in a car accident.  She told the hospital and the police that she lost control of the car and hit a pole.  Only, I overheard her and her father talking.  She kept saying that hospital had no idea what happened.  I, just, I thought her father was the one driving the car and he forced her to take the fall because he didn’t want to get in trouble.  I have no idea if I’m right.  There’s no way for me to prove that I’m right, either.  I didn’t know what to do.”

“It’s okay, Peter,” Mr. Kernan said, holding his hands.  “You were scared.  It’s alright to be scared, and it’s okay if you don’t have proof, either.  I’m just here to listen to your side of the story.  Are there any other instances in which Mr. Jones has tried to physically harm MJ?”

Peter nodded.  “Yeah.  A while back, when we just started dating, I came down with the flu.  MJ spent the day at my house just hanging out with me.  She must have lost track of time and she missed her curfew.  The next time I saw, she had bruises all over her arms.  In fact, every time I can think that MJ says she did something her father would be upset about, she ends up missing school the next day.  And after the car accident, she had bruises all over her face and there’s no way of knowing what bruises came from the accident and what bruises came from her father.  Plus, and, god, I know I screwed up with this one… I started putting pieces together.  Tony mentioned that something might going wrong between Mr. Jones and MJ.  I didn’t know what to think, but I went to her house and I heard fighting.  I went inside — I thought something was wrong only I, uh… I saw Mr. Jones trying to hurt Kevin.  MJ tried to pull her father off and he pushed her aside.”

“What did you do?” Mr. Kernan asked.

Peter frowned.  “I knocked him out — and I know that was the wrong thing to do.  I should have called the cops.  I should have gotten MJ and Kevin out of there but I freaked out.  In the heat of the moment, I thought Mr. Jones might try to kill her.”

“You did what you thought needed to be done,” Mr. Kernan said, very matter-a-factly.  It wasn’t exactly comforting sharing all of these details to a complete stranger, but Peter couldn’t let that bother him.  “Considering we’re meeting due to the phone call last night, is it safe to say that you didn’t report the incident to Child Protective Services that day?”

Peter shook his head.  “No.  I wanted to call the police.  I knew it was the right thing to do, but MJ wouldn’t let me.  She was so scared and she was so convinced that her dad wasn’t do anything wrong.  I didn’t understand.  And now it’s my fault that this happened.  I should have just called you guys.  I should have reported the incident.”

“It’s alright,” Mr. Kernan said.  He held up the video.  “You have evidence now and that makes this situation much easier to prove.  Is that all you can think of that Mr. Jones did?”

Peter sighed.  “Uh, well, we had this decathlon tournament yesterday.  At dinner, he kind of… he threatened MJ.”

“How so?”

“He said that if he caught me at his house again, he would hurt her.  I guess Mr. Jones didn’t use those words, but I understood what he was trying to say,” Peter said.  “He kept saying that MJ heals quickly so I would never be able to know what happened.  I could have called the police then, too, but I was just scared.” 

“Which is perfectly normal,” Mr. Kernan reassured again.  He glanced at May and Tony.  “Do you two have anything else to add?”

“I was barely around her and her father,” May said. 

“We both had no idea,” Tony said.

“Okay.”  Mr. Kernan capped his pen.  “Now that you’ve issued a formal complaint, I can start investigating this case, and my first task would be to watch this video, of course.  I have sixty days to determine whether or not the report is ‘indicated’ or ‘unfounded.’  Based upon what you’re saying and I’m assuming what I’ll see on this video, it’s going to be hard to say that there isn’t any legitimacy behind your claim.  I’ve been told that Mr. Jones, Michelle and Kevin are… not in New York, currently?”

Peter had been so caught up about this meeting, he hadn’t stopped to think about whether or not MJ had returned home yet.  “I don’t think so,” May said when Peter hadn’t responded.

“They disappeared after the phone call,” Peter said.

Mr. Kernan nodded.  “Well, it will be a little bit harder if I can’t speak to MJ or Kevin, but hopefully you’ve provided enough evidence for me to do this case without meeting them.”

“And if you did decide that Mr. Jones _is_ guilty of child abuse?” May asked.

“Then there will be a variety of consequences.  Once we find Michelle and Kevin, we can file for a petition to remove them from Mr. Jones’s custody.  What happens to the child afterwards depends on whether or not the petition for suspending custody goes through.  Sometimes, the court can find a legal guardian to take care of them.  But if we can’t, then MJ or Kevin could get put into foster care.  If we can prove that everything you’ve told me about the situation is true, then Mr. Jones could be serious trouble.  Crashing the car with MJ in it can result in a slew of other legal issues: insurance fraud, a DUI.  This situation is sticky.  And, I know it sounds scary, but I promise you that you made the right choice coming to Child Protective Services.  We’re here to help,” Mr. Kernan said.

“Will you keep us updated if you find anything out about MJ or Kevin?” Peter asked.

Mr. Kernan bit his lip.  “As much as I can, yes.  I promise you that I will notify you once we locate their family.  And, Peter, do you promise me that you’ll contact me if you find anything out about where MJ and Kevin might be?  Or anything else that might be relevant to this case?” Mr. Kernan rummaged through one of his desk drawers and handed Peter a business card.

“Of course,” Peter said.  He wasn’t lying, either.  If going to Child Protective Services was the best thing for MJ, then he knew he had to keep that promise.  “Thank you,” he finally said. 

Mr. Kernan smiled, “I’ll take good care of Michelle.  I’m glad she has someone like you in her life.” 

That made Peter feel a little better, and a little selfish for trying to credit himself in helping MJ, but Peter let himself indulge in the thought.  He let himself cheer up a little bit in knowing that someone finally helped MJ and Kevin after quite possibly years of abuse. All Peter could do was hope.  Hope and pray that MJ would come back safely.


	16. Waiting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO sorry this took such a long time to post. I’ve been crazy busy this past week! Anyway, this story is just about over. Only a couple more chapters left. Thank you so, so, SO much to everyone that’s been supporting this story. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy :)

_“Our willingness to wait_

_reveals the value we place_

_on what we’re waiting for…”_

~ Charles Stanley ~

Chapter Sixteen: Waiting

Waiting for CPS to finish with its investigation was probably the hardest part of this situation.  Peter promised May and Tony that he would stay out of it, at least until CPS determined that there was legitimate cause for removing MJ and Kevin under their father’s care.  They kept telling Peter that it would happen soon, that Mr. Kernan would call with good news.  Good news might not have been the right vernacular for the situation, but Peter really wasn’t sure what was.  Mr. Kernan had promised to notify Peter if they find Michelle and Kevin, though the Jones deserved some privacy with respect to their case.  Peter didn’t know what other evidence Mr. Kernan had gathered and how he had gathered that evidence.  It had just been a day since Peter told CPS, so it wasn’t like Peter expected miracles to happen but sitting around all day Sunday and going to school on Monday was infuriating.  And restless.  And, all around, kind of shitty. 

School went as well as expected.  It wasn’t like Peter could go around and tell everyone what happened.  It was too personal of a situation, and this was _high school_ , no less.  If people got hold that MJ’s parents were abusive, the gossip would be crazy.  Even though Peter knew the story was true, he didn’t want to subject MJ to anything else traumatic, like dealing with people looking at her differently.  After having gone through the rumors of people thinking Peter as crazy for having anxiety attacks and PTSD, Peter knew he wasn’t going to let MJ go through that, too.  Peter convinced himself that she would be coming back to Midtown, no matter what happened with her father.  This was her home.  This was where she belonged.  There were people at this high school that loved her.  Queens, New York was MJ’s home and that wasn’t going to change.

It was hard to do damage control when people were asking Peter why MJ wasn’t at school, especially since nationals for decathlon was just two weeks away.  The team started to have additional practice on Monday, which meant that Peter had to face an onslaught of questions about where MJ was.  He hated looking at his friends faces and knowingly lie to them.  “I’m not sure.  Maybe she’s sick or something,” Peter said. 

He honestly wondered how see through his lie was.  As captain, he felt obligated to start preparing one of the substitutes. He hoped he was wrong, but Peter couldn’t honestly see MJ being here for nationals.  Peter already knew that Abraham would be the best replacement for MJ, considering how close in caliber he was to the rest of the humanities competing team.  Peter came up with some excuse about how it was better for everyone to be involved in practicing to help put pressure on the competing team.  Tuesday was even worse.  MJ had missed two practices without notifying the team, and that never happened.  Even Mr. Harrington was worried.  

“Karen, what do you think I should do?” Peter asked Tuesday night during his rounds.  He thought fighting crime in Queens would help distract Peter.  If you’re curious, it didn’t help that much.

“What do you think you should do?” Karen said.

“I don’t know,” Peter admitted.  That wasn’t a lie, either.  He felt conflicted through and through about the whole situation.  May and Tony notified Dr. Strange about the whole situation, and all three adults were insistent that Peter didn’t get involved.  Peter understood that it was important for CPS to decide to suspend Mr. Jones’s custody (at least then, Spider-Man wouldn’t be punished for taking MJ away from her father), but Peter didn’t want to wait.  He didn’t want MJ to think that he had given up on her, because he hadn’t.  Peter was always going to be there for her, whether as her boyfriend, or friend, or co-captain.  “I want to help her.”

“Maybe letting Child Protective Services handle this one is the best way _to_ help her,” Karen said.  “If Spider-Man picks a fight with her father, who would win?”

“Me, obviously.”

“Obviously,” Karen said.  “Which means that you’ll probably end up hurting her father, and I don’t think that’s what she needs right now.”  Peter knew she was right, but he didn’t like admitting that she was.

Peter decided not to go on rounds for much longer than night.  The next day, the questions only got worst and Peter was running out of excuses to ignore the concern of the decathlon team.  After dodging Ned’s questions for all lunch and all of third period, Peter finally decided that it would be a good idea to contact Mr. Kernan.  He was sure that anyone working for CPS would have a better idea of the best way to the handle the situation.  All Peter needed to do was get through the rest of Wednesday.  Heck, he could even talk to Dr. Strange about it. 

Halfway through Peter’s Spanish class, he felt his phone start buzzing like crazy.  A part of him hoped that it was MJ, though Peter knew better to get his hopes up about that.  When his teacher had her back turned, Peter took his cell phone out from his pocket, held it under his desk and started scrolling through his notifications.  It was a series of emails from Mr. Harrington.  At first, Peter was worried it was going to be about Michelle missing so much practice and that the team was demanding an answer from her, but the email wasn’t even addressed to the entire team.  It was just to Peter.  _Only_ Peter.  He read through it quickly:  << _Peter, sorry to bother you on a short notice.  I need to have an emergency meeting with you about the decathlon team after school.  Come to my classroom.  – Mr. Harington_ >>.  Peter was confused and worried, naturally.  If Mr. Harrington emailed Peter about some kind of emergency meeting, it had to be about Michelle and why she wasn’t showing up.  What was Peter going to say?  Should Peter tell Mr. Harrington the truth?  

When school was over, Ned came rushing toward Peter.  “So, are you meeting up with Dr. Strange today?  Or do you want to hang out after school?”

“Uh, yeah I’m meeting with Dr. Strange in a little bit but maybe afterwards,” Peter said.  “Hey, you didn’t get any weird emails from Mr. Harrington, did you?”

Ned raised his eyebrows.  “No…  Why?  Is there something wrong?  Did we get kicked out from the national competition?”

Peter shook his head.  “No.  It’s probably nothing,” Peter said.  “Didn’t mean to freak you out.  But yeah, we should hang out tonight so I’ll text you when I’m finished with Dr. Strange.  Maybe we can work on homework together or something.”

Now Peter was really starting to freak out about the meeting with Mr. Harrington.  The entire time he walked to the English wing, Peter was trying to figure out what the best excuse would be to get Michelle out of the clear.  Maybe she had the flu.  Or pink eye.  No one would want pink eye.  And she changed her number because her phone was broken over the weekend.  Peter was so distracted with coming up with excuses to cover for Michelle that he didn’t even notice his surroundings when he walked into Mr. Harrington’s classroom.  His teacher wasn’t alone.  Standing beside Mr. Harrington was Mr. Kernan, looking very official and very serious.  Peter’s blood went cold.  Peter could only think of bad reasons why Mr. Kernan would have contacted Mr. Harrington and why it felt as though the entire decathlon team was to be involved.  _Oh god_.  Peter couldn’t tell if he was even more worried now, or partially relieved because he didn’t have to lie. 

“Peter, we need to talk about something pretty serious,” Mr. Harrington said.  _No, no, no_ , was all Peter could think.  He turned to glare at Mr. Kernan Why didn’t Mr. Kernan tell Peter this was happening?  It wasn’t like Peter could have stopped Mr. Kernan, but it would have been nice to be blind-sided with this turn of events.  “I guess you already know who Mr. Kernan is.”

At first, Peter was standing there dumbly, like Mr. Harrington wasn’t speaking English.  He cleared his throat and gathered his bearings.  “Uh, yeah.  Yeah, we… I know him.  How do you…”

“I emailed Mr. Harrington this morning after we decided that it’d best to suspend Mr. Jones’s custody,” Mr. Kernan said.  He was obviously trying hard to be careful with what he was saying.  Mr. Kernan glanced back and forth between Mr. Harrington and Peter, gauging their reactions carefully.  “I thought it’d be best to contact MJ’s school, and they gave me Mr. Harrington’s contact information.  I’m really sorry to spring this on you, by the way.  There just isn’t an easy way to bring this up in a conversation.”

Mr. Harrington nodded.  The man looked like a wreck.  He looked confused and upset and pain, and Peter understood all of those emotions.  Peter felt all of those emotions every single day that MJ wasn’t safe and there with him.

“I really… I had no idea that something was wrong,” Mr. Harrington said.  “Other than when we were together for decathlon stuff, I never saw her.  She was very private about her personal life.”  Mr. Harrington glanced in Peter’s direction.  There was no way Mr. Harrington would imply that if Peter was more observant that MJ might not have been in this mess, but that’s all Peter could think about.  There were so many other things that Peter was worrying about this year that he forgot to take notice at Michelle’s life.  But come to think of it, Mr. Jones was a more terrifying enemy than even Adrian Toomes.

Mr. Kernan sighed.  “We have a good amount of evidence against Mr. Jones.  I’m here to see if any of you know anything else that could help our case against Michelle’s father.  Now, you don’t have to tell me in front of each other since this is pretty personal,” he said.  Mr. Kernan reached into his pocket and handed Mr. Harrington a business card, the same he gave Peter this weekend. “If you remember anything or think of something, even if you can’t prove it, please email me.  And if Michelle contacts you in anyway, please call me immediately.  It is very important for our case and for the safety of Michelle and her brother that we find her soon.”

“What am I supposed to tell her friends?  The entire team has been worried about her,” Mr. Harrington clarified.  “we had our competition on Saturday and we haven’t heard from her since.”

“I would refrain from telling other students what happened to her — that’s something she should do on her own,” Mr. Kernan said.

“Do you know where she is?” Mr. Harrington asked.

Mr. Kernan shook his head.  “We’re not sure where her father may have taken them.”

“Do you know if she’s hurt?  Or is she okay?” Mr. Harrington asked.

Mr. Kernan looked away.  “I’m here to do what’s best for Michelle and her brother.  I’m on her side.  Right now, we’re doing what we can—”

“I know.  I know.  I just…” Mr. Harrington leaned against his desk.  “God, I wish I had known about this before.”

“Sometimes you can’t always see the warning signs, and from what I heard from Peter, it seemed like her family was pretty good at hiding the abuse,” Mr. Kernan said.

Peter started to feel dizzy.  He couldn’t relive everything that happened this weekend, all the fear and anxiety, over again.  Peter wasn’t sure how to handle this onslaught of emotions.  Maybe it would make him look bad, but that didn’t matter because Peter knew what the best decision for him was.  He gathered up his backpack, pushed a few chairs out of the way and walked out of the classroom.  The entire conversation went dead as Peter left.  He knew Mr. Harrington and Mr. Kernan probably wouldn’t be too happy that Peter was _running away_.  It didn’t matter.  It didn’t matter that not facing the facts would make the situation worse.  What mattered was that Peter tried to separate himself from that classroom because if he was there any longer he would have a panic attack.

 _Calm down, Parker_ , he told himself.  Peter went to sit by the benches outside.  It was beautiful outside, too.  It wasn’t too cold or too warm.  The sun was beating, the leaves and plants were green.  The scenery didn’t reflect the ugliness of the world.  No matter what anyone tries to tell you, life can be a real piece of shit sometimes.  Peter didn’t know how to process it.  He didn’t know how to handle it, and he hated the feeling.  Doing nothing, though… that _wasn’t_ going to help Peter.  Waiting for Mr. Kernan to go through all the hoops, make sure all the Ts are crossed and the Is are dotted before doing anything to help MJ would probably kill Peter.  Enough inaction.  He had to do something.  Maybe that did mean hunting down MJ on all his own.  He would be able to track her more efficiently than anyone else.  Mr. Kernan said it himself: the most important thing in the situation is finding her.  That’s what mattered.  That was enough approval that Peter needed.

Peter contemplated going back into the classroom.  After all, Peter was slowly coming to terms with what happened.  His teacher and mentor was being thrown a curve ball and no one besides Peter knew how to process it.  Peter could help Mr. Harrington.  It was _his turn_ to help someone else.  So, Peter knew what the right thing to do was.  Peter grabbed the straps of his backpack, swallowed his anxiety and went back into the English classroom where Mr. Kernan and Mr. Harrington were still talking.

“Sorry,” Peter said.  “I just needed some air.”

“That’s quite alright,” Mr. Kernan said.  “I was just letting Mr. Harrington know about some legal procedures.  Do you have any questions for me, Peter?”

“Are we going to tell the team?” Peter asked.

“Not yet,” Mr. Kernan said, “but eventually.  At the very least, the team should be aware that if they learn anything about MJ’s whereabouts, they need to let you or myself know.  And you haven’t heard anything from Michelle?”

Peter shook his head.  “Nothing.  And you’re terminating Mr. Jones’s custody rights?”

“We haven’t yet but it’s very likely,” Mr. Kernan said.  “There’s a longer process to do that but, as of now, CPS is searching for Mr. Jones and his family.  Judging by the evidence you gave me on Sunday, Mr. Parker, removing Michelle and Kevin from her father’s custody is probably in their best interest.”  There was a long pause in which Mr. Harrington slumped against his desk, dejectedly.  “I know this is hard,” Mr. Kernan said, “but you have to be strong for MJ.  She’s going to be alright.  There are people looking for her.”

“Thank you,” Mr. Harrington finally said, going to shake the other man’s hand.

“Call me if you need anything,” Mr. Kernan said before packing up his briefcase and then walking out of the classroom.

That left Mr. Harrington and Peter.  And _that_ was more awkward than ever.  What do you say to a teacher who just found out one of his favorite students was being abused by her father right under his nose?  “Mr. Harrington,” Peter attempted.  “Are you… are you alright?”  Peter wasn’t sure why that question would be at all helpful.  Of course Mr. Harrington wasn’t alright.

“How long have you known about this?” Mr. Harrington asked.

“A couple weeks,” Peter admitted.  He couldn’t imagine how lying would help the situation.  “I didn’t report anything, though, because I had no evidence and I really don’t think MJ wanted my help, either way.”

“Jesus,” Mr. Harrington said.  He looked up at Peter.  Peter had never seen a teacher cry before so standing in the middle of this English classroom, staring at Mr. Harrington weep into his hands was absolutely heartbreaking.  When Mr. Harrington looked up, his face was red.  “And you knew about this.  You held onto this for weeks,” Mr. Harrington managed.  “God, I’m so sorry you had to keep this to yourself.”

Peter bit his lip.  “Mr. Harrington… I know she’s going to be okay.  MJ’s strong.”

“Yeah, I know,” Mr. Harrington said.  He sniffled and put his hand on Peter’s shoulder.  “If you need anything, my door is always open.  You know that, Peter?”

Peter nodded.  “Yeah.” 

That was something Peter was realizing throughout this whole year.  No matter how alone Peter had felt when he was struggling with coming to terms with Uncle Ben’s death or trying to manage his anxiety, it hit Peter that there was _always_ someone there.  Tony or May or Dr. Strange or Ned or that cop that investigated Uncle Ben’s death.  He had friends all around him at Midtown: Gwen, Betty and Cindy with their wide hearts who would do anything for Peter; or Flash and Jason who, despite the fact that they give Peter crap every single day, would stick up for Peter when push comes to shove.  Despite what Peter may have felt at the beginning of the year, Peter was _never_ alone.  And neither was MJ.  MJ didn’t grow up surrounded with the unconditional love like the kind Peter received Uncle Ben and May, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t loved.  Every person that loved Peter loved MJ, too. 

“Do you have a ride home?  I can wait with you if you need me to,” Mr. Harrington said.

Peter shook his head.  “No.  No, I’m good.  May’s probably outside waiting for me,” Peter said.

“Alright,” Mr. Harrington said.  He wiped his eyes again.  “Let me know if you need anything or need to talk to anyone.”

“Of course.  Thank you,” Peter said. 

Sure enough, May and Tony were waiting outside, double-parked in the fire lane.  They looked pretty worried, pacing back and forth, hands clutching their phones.  It makes sense, though.  Knowing Peter’s track record, he wouldn’t have been surprised if they assumed he had ditched school to go looking for MJ.  When Peter walked outside, May let out this huge, relieved sigh and went running to her nephew’s side.  “There you are,” May said.  She pulled Peter into a hug.  “We ran into Mr. Kernan.”

“Oh,” Peter said.  “So, I guess he told you the news.”

“Yeah,” May said as Tony joined the two of them.  She hugged Peter, again.  “It’s good, though.  It’s a good step in the right direction.  Mr. Kernan said they’re going to start looking for MJ and Kevin and they’ll be able to bring her back to New York if they find her.”

“When they find her,” Peter corrected, involuntarily.  Saying those words out loud felt stupidly optimistic, but at the same time, what was wrong with that?  Peter was determined to make sure that CPS finds MJ and Kevin.  Whether that meant interfering a little bit or not, it didn’t matter.  Peter wasn’t going to let MJ down.  “Yeah.  Mr. Kernan also told Mr. Harrington.  It was pretty hard on him.”

“I can’t imagine what he must be feeling,” May said.  She put her arms around Peter.  “Come on.  Let’s get you to Dr. Strange.  I’m sure you’ve got plenty you want to talk about.”

Sure enough, there was plenty for Dr. Strange to talk about.  Dr. Strange has been more than helpful ever since this whole affair with MJ and her father happened, from taking Peter’s late night calls whenever he had a nightmare or simply needed someone to talk to.  No, Dr. Strange didn’t have all the answers for Peter when it came to what CPS would be doing for Michelle.  Peter also knew that Dr. Strange would have the easiest time finding MJ (Peter barely understood what Dr. Strange was capable of, but if any of the Avengers could find MJ, it would have been him).  He thought about asking Stephen to track down MJ only, Peter figured Tony and May already got to Dr. Strange.  Today, Peter told Dr. Strange about Mr. Harrington.

“How am I supposed to help him understand what’s happening when I barely understand it myself?” Peter muttered.  He was sitting in the grand upstairs room, twiddling his fingers.  He’s been getting better at feeling more comfortable talking to Dr. Strange about this kind of stuff, but when Peter was hiding something, he had a hard time looking at Dr. Strange in the eye.

“It doesn’t have to be your responsibility to help Mr. Harrington,” Dr. Strange said.  “I know you want to help, but perhaps it’s better for your teacher to process this on his own.”

“Right,” Peter said.  “Of course.  I just, I wasn’t expecting that.”

“It’s hard to expect anything like this,” Dr. Strange said.  “Though you don’t seem as upset as you were a couple of days ago.  Is there anything you want to tell me?”

“No,” Peter said.  Is it bad that Peter’s been getting better at lying at Dr. Strange, even though the man is just trying to help?  “I’m just glad that Mr. Kernan decided to terminate Mr. Jones’s custody.” 

It felt like the conversation ended before it barely started.  Peter, May and Tony were on their way back to Peter’s apartment.  Peter and Ned had arranged that they would hang out tonight so after they picked up take out for dinner, they stopped by Ned’s house to pick up Peter’s friend.  After Peter and Ned had dinner with May and Tony, the two teenagers hurried off to Peter’s room.  “So, are we going to work on our project right now?” Ned asked.  He pulled out his laptop and textbook eagerly.  “Oh, so why did Mr. Harrington want to talk to you, by the way?  Was it about MJ?  Do you know what’s going on with her?”

Peter held his hands up.  “Ned!  Ned, dude.  You’re killing me, man.”

“Sorry.  Sorry, I just want to hear what happened,” Ned said. 

Peter sighed.  If there was anyone that Peter could trust with a secret like this, it was Ned.  Ned has been Peter’s best friend.  Ned knew everything about Peter’s trauma, almost as much as MJ did.  Only, that was Peter’s secret to tell.  This is MJ’s secret, a very serious and private secret, and Peter didn’t have the right to share it with anyone else.  That being said, if Peter was going to try and find Michelle without the help of Dr. Strange or the police, he needed someone else on his side.  There was no one else that Peter trusted more.  “Look, Ned, I’ve got to tell you something and it’s kind of upsetting.”

“What?  Is Michelle going to drop the decathlon team?  We need her, Peter!” Ned exclaimed

Peter’s eyes went wide.  He held up his hands.  “No.  No, that’s not that what I meant.  It’s worse.  It’s about Michelle’s father.”  Peter leaned forward and told Ned the full story from start to finish with the bruises and the deception and rules and finally the assault a couple days ago.  Ned had a pretty similar reaction to everyone else that heard the story: this look of pure shock.

“Holy shit, man,” Ned muttered, running his fingers through his hair.

“Yeah, I know,” Peter said.

“But Child Protective Services is looking for Michelle?  They’re going to get her back, right?!” Ned exclaimed. 

That hopeful look in Ned’s eyes made Peter all the more determined.  Peter nodded.  “I’m not sure what Child Protective Services can do for Michelle, but I know I’m going to do what _I_ can do to make sure that she’s okay.”

“And how are you going to do that?” Ned asked.

“I figured if you and I could hack into a multimillion dollar suit the way we did at the beginning of the year, we could probably figure out how to track MJ down,” Peter said. 

“You and me?  We’re going to do this?” Ned asked.

“Yeah,” Peter said.  “We’re going to find MJ.”

* * *

 

Compared to the kind of hacking Peter and Ned had to do to disable the tracker in Peter’s suit, getting Karen to do most of the work for tracking MJ down was a piece of cake.  Thanks to the camera Mr. Stark put in Peter’s suit, Karen had plenty of footage of MJ, her father and Kevin to work with.  He wasn’t sure if they still had the same car, but there were a complete of images of their incomplete licenses plate, which made this a lot easier.  After explaining to Karen the situation and why Peter thought it would be a good idea for him to search for MJ, Peter and Ned eventually convinced Karen to start scanning through any camera she could access across the United States for a hit on Mr. Jones, Michelle or Kevin.  By camera, Peter mostly meant traffic light cameras or ATMs — not people’s personal cameras (he wasn’t a creep).  It took almost all night to get all the AI and tech stuff figured out (Peter wasn’t as great with technology as Ned so he let his best friend do most of the heavy lifting).  When they were finished, they thought about working on their homework for a little bit but lost interest quickly.  Ned went home, tired and sad and confused, just like Peter.  Peter felt pretty shitty knowing that he was the reason Ned was so upset, but if it wasn’t for Ned, Peter probably wouldn’t have been able to figure out how to get Karen to start looking for Michelle. 

Despite Ned’s, Peter’s and Karen’s best work, the task of finding Michelle was daunting.  Looking at security cameras wasn’t a guaranteed success by any means.  There were millions upon millions of cameras across the US so it could take weeks before they find anything, but this at least gave Peter some peace of mind.  There was a lot of waiting, though.  Every day felt like such a drag, and it wasn’t like school or even rounds were doing much to distract Peter.  Rounds every night went smoothly.  Nothing compared to what happened in December with the gunshot.  And school was even worse because all the school could talk about was Michelle.  Now that it’s been nearly a week since Michelle has been to school last, the team was starting to get understandably worried.  Peter, Mr. Harrington and now Ned had no good excuse for why she was absent.

Thursday at practice, once again, Peter and Mr. Harrington were bombarded with questions about MJ.  “Look, as team captain and as the guiding teacher for this program, you two have a responsibility to let us know what’s happening with someone on the competing team,” Gwen said.  “Did she quit the team?  Should we start preparing the alternates?”

Peter and Mr. Harrington glanced at each other.  “Michelle had a family emergency she had to take care of,” Mr. Harrington explained.  The team looked thoroughly confused and incredibly unhappy with the news, but Mr. Harrington continued on.  “We haven’t heard much from her other than she left town over the weekend.”

“Is she going to be okay?  Do you know what’s happening?” Gwen asked quickly.

Mr. Harrington frowned.  It was obvious how much Mr. Harrington didn’t want to lie to the team, but he also knew that the truth behind MJ’s disappearance was a need to know basis.  “Peter and I don’t know a lot about what’s happening, to be honest.  It’s really important, though, that you notify Peter and me if she contacts you guys.”

“Why would she contact us before Peter?” Flash muttered.  At first, Peter thought it was Flash’s attempt to be a jackass, but it wasn’t that.  Flash was telling the truth.  If anyone was going to hear from MJ first, it would have been Peter.

“I just needed to make sure you guys knew that,” Mr. Harrington said.

At first, it looked like the team went into silence from pure shock but once the team started to think more and more about what a ‘family emergency’ implicated for the team, they started to freak out.  “Look,” Betty finally said, “and I’m not trying to belittle what’s going on with MJ since, if she’s been gone for a whole week without telling anyone it, it’s obviously something bad, but what does that mean for nationals next week?  We need Michelle!”

Mr. Harrington frowned.  “Look, I don’t want to make any decisions for Michelle, but as of now, I can’t imagine her being ready to compete next Saturday…”

The team reacted loudly, gasping and rubbing their foreheads.  “So, who’s going to take her place?” Flash asked.  “We need to start preparing them.”

“Is that really what you’re concerned about right now?  The competition?” Gwen said.

Flash raised his eyebrows.  “What else are we supposed to do?  No one knows where she is or what’s going on with her!  Not even Peter.  There’s nothing we can do other than sit here and talk about how worried we are.  We might as well try to win for Michelle.”

“Or we could try to figure out what’s going on with her,” Betty offered.

The team turned to Peter.  Even Mr. Harrington, the advisor of the team, looked at a loss.  Peter frowned.  “Look, guys, I’m not going to pretend to know the faintest about where Michelle is but, um, I know she would be really sad if we threw away the competition and all our work for her.  She would want us to win next Saturday.  Believe me, we’re not going to be hurting her feelings or anything.”

“See?” Flash said.  “How are you going to decide who gets to take Michelle’s place?”

“By whoever got the next best score on the exams we took,” Mr. Harrington said.  He pulled out a file in his briefcase, thumbed through a few pages and then said, “It looks like that is going to be Abraham.  Congratulations.”

The team gave Abraham a feeble applause, but it was clear how no one seemed all that cheery at the moment.  Trying to conduct practice that day was difficult.  It wasn’t like the team didn’t want to win, but everyone was distracted with questions and concerns about Michelle.  Peter and Mr. Harrington both decided to end practice early.  The team seemed pretty grateful for that, packing up their bags in silence and walking solemnly out of the gym.  Flash turned to Peter at the last second and they stared at each other.  Flash didn’t need to say anything for Peter to understand what the guy was trying to say.  _I’m sorry for giving you a hard time all these years.  If you need anything, my phone is always on me._ Peter could take his pick.  Flash patted Peter on the back before walking out of the door.

“What are we going to do for the captain’s meeting?” Peter asked when the rest of the team was gone.

Mr. Harrington sighed.  “Before we elected you as co-captain, Michelle and I normally met in my classroom on Friday.  Would that work for you?”

Peter nodded.  “Yeah.”

“Did you hear anything from Mr. Kernan?”

Peter shook his head.  “Not yet…”  Mr. Harrington’s face fell and the little bit of sensibility keeping Peter from making promises that he might not be able to keep slipped away.  “But I wouldn’t give up hope.  We’re going to find her.  CPS, I mean.  They’re going to find her.”

Mr. Harrington gave Peter a feeble smile.  “Have a good night, Peter.”

“You too, Mr. H.”

Though Karen finding MJ in less than twenty-four hours was going to be pretty unlikely, Peter couldn’t help but quickly run to his computer in hopes that Karen found the location.  Peter had absolutely no right to be disappointed when he found that Karen hadn’t discovered where MJ was.  Sighing, he threw himself into his homework, his prep work for the decathlon team and, eventually, rounds that night.  Friday was just as miserable as the rest of the week, only it was worse that the team knew.  Instead of asking Peter questions about why MJ wasn’t show up to school, which was hard enough to deal with, the team was asking questions about what MJ was going through.  _How serious of a family emergency would it be for her to miss two weeks of school?  Why hasn’t she contacted any of us?  Peter, can you tell her that we care and we’re always available to talk?_ God, that was the worse.  It was like the entire team just expected Peter to still have this amazing, solid relationship with Michelle.  They broke up.  The team knew how ugly their relationship ended.

Ned slept over Friday night.  Peter thought it would be nice to have Ned over comms while Peter was on rounds.  Someone to keep Peter company and help him out in case Peter missed anything.  When Peter was finished, they scrolled through Karen’s results.  Nothing but declines and red and disappointment.  They must have been staying up so late trying to improve the algorithm to find MJ faster that Peter must not have even realized he fell asleep.  Peter didn’t exactly sleep well, especially since his sleep was accompanied with terrifying nightmares of Liz’s father and then Michelle’s father and even Peter’s father.  Peter distinctly remembered seeing the faces of the three men meshing together until suddenly—

In the midst of Peter’s nightmare, he heard the sound of beeping.  Nothing too loud, but enough to jolt Peter awake.  He jerked where he was sitting, accidently kicking the trash can by his desk over.  Peter yawned, running his fingers through his hair.  He must have fallen asleep at a pretty funny angle because when he straightened up, he felt his neck knot up in pain.  “Uh, what the hell?” Peter muttered.  As he oriented himself, he quickly realized that his computer was the thing that a made noise.  And it wasn’t an email notification.  “Shit.  Ned!  Ned, dude get up!” 

“What?!” Ned yelped.  Peter’s best friend kicked the sheets off of Peter’s bed and nearly fell to the ground.  “What time is it?”

“Get over here!” Peter exclaimed.

Ned scrambled to Peter’s desk.  “What is it?”

“Karen _found_ her!” Peter said.  He isn’t sure he’s ever felt so happy before in his life.  There was a little image in the bottom left corner of his computer, where Peter saw a blurry picture of what looked like Michelle.  It had to be here.  Peter would recognize that curly, wild hair, those eyes, her _smile_ anywhere.  Just off the picture, Peter couldn’t tell where exactly MJ was, but Karen had managed to pinpoint the exact address.  _They found her._ “That’s her!”

“Where is it?” Ned asked. 

“Somewhere in Wisconsin,” Peter said.  He leapt up from his chair and started scrambling toward the Iron-Spider suit.  “Alright man, when May wakes up, I need you to explain where I am.”  In between talking, Peter started ripping off his sweatshirt and yanking the suit on.  “I’ll be back soon.  I’m sure I’ll be able to hitchhike to Wisconsin.  I mean, how hard can it be?”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, you’re going after her yourself?” Ned said with raised eyebrows.

Peter nodded.  “Yeah.  Come on, I just found where she is.  Why wouldn’t I go after her?”

“Didn’t Mr. Kernan promise that Child Protective Services—”

“Would go after her, yes,” Peter explained.  “But — but I’m _Spider-Man!_ My job is take care of people who need help.  And Michelle needs help.  I can get there and get out with no problem.”

“By fighting her father!” Ned said.

Peter shook his head.  “Doesn’t matter.  I’m here to protect Michelle!  I’m not going to just pretend I don’t know where she is.”

“Peter, there are people who are trained to handle this!  What if you do something wrong and you hurt MJ?  Or what if you do something wrong and hurt her father?  What if she doesn’t forgive you for that?” Ned asked.  “Come on, man.  You need to take a breath and think about what going after her means.”

Peter stared at his best friend for a long time.  Peter could feel the grip he had on the Iron-Spider suit slacken just barely as what Ned said registered in Peter’s mind.  All Peter really wanted to do was the put the suit on, hitchhike all the way to Wisconsin and find Michelle.  He wanted to find her and protect her and tell her she was safe.  He wanted to be the first person she saw.  Peter wanted to be the person who saved her.  But, god, Peter knew that Ned was right.  There were people that were trained to handle this situation.  People who understood what MJ was going through and knew exactly what needed to be said.  So, Peter grabbed hold of his cell phone and dialed Mr. Kernan’s number.  It only rung for a couple of seconds.

“Peter?” Mr. Kernan said.  “Peter, what’s going on?  Is everything alright?”

Peter blinked a couple of times.  There was no turning back.  Peter _couldn’t_ be the person to bring Michelle in, especially not if he told Mr. Kernan and CPS.  “I know where Michelle is.”

* * *

 

Peter didn’t hear back from Mr. Kernan until Saturday night, and the fact that it took Mr. Kernan that long to get back to Peter made the situation even worse.  He needed to know what was going on.  Fortunately for Peter, he didn’t need to explain to Tony or May why CPS was going to Wisconsin.  Mr, Kernan only explained to the two adults that it was an anonymous tip, one of CPS’s modes of tracking the kids down was successful at finding her.  They spent all of Saturday nervously standing in the middle of the living room, phones in hand, waiting for a call.  Ned and Mr. Harrington drifted in and out of Peter’s house, too.  Neither could stay for very long, especially since Ned wasn’t supposed to know what was going with MJ and since Mr. Harrington only stopped by because he and his wife were in the neighborhood.  Even Dr. Strange called Peter to see how he was doing. 

Mr. Kernan finally called May at 10:30 that night.  Peter was feeling pretty tired at that time, not tired enough to fall asleep by any means, but at the very least not awake enough to be completely aware of what was going on around him.  “Peter,” May said, tapping on his shoulder as she hurried off of the couch and toward her cell phone.  Tony and Peter rushed to May’s side.  Peter’s stomach knotted up as May pressed the phone against her ear.  _Don’t get your hopes.  Don’t get your hopes._ “Hello?”  There was a pause in the conversation and then May let out a sigh of relief.  She closed her eyes, pressing her hand against her heart.  “You did?  That’s good.  That’s good.  And they’re okay?  Oh, thank god.

It took a lot of energy and remainders for Peter to keep himself in check as May finished up the conversation with Mr. Kernan, writing down logistics and other pertinent information.  Only, Peter barely heard the rest of the conversation.  Nothing else mattered.  No matter what Mr. Kernan was saying to May right now because they found Michelle and Kevin.  They were going to come home.  They were going to get the help they needed and deserved and they would be met with the love and support from all their friends.

May hung up the phone with tears in her eyes.  “What did he say?” Tony asked.

“They found Michelle and Kevin,” May said.  “They found her, Peter.”

“I — I know,” Peter managed.  He couldn’t help but smile, even though absolutely nothing in this situation called for him to be _happy_.  Peter reached for May’s hand, grasping onto his aunt’s touch.  “She’s coming home, right?  They’re bringing her back?”

May nodded.  “Yeah.” 

Peter sighed in relief again. “Thank god,” Peter said.  “She’ll be okay, won’t she?”

“Mr. Kernan is going to do everything he can for Michelle and Kevin,” May said, though that wasn’t a direct answer.  The fact that May _wasn’t_ giving Peter a direct answer was scaring him.  May saw the fear register in Peter’s eyes and she quickly added, “At least temporarily, CPS has suspended Mr. Jones’s custody rights over Michelle and Kevin.  What this means is that, unless there is a relative that they can live with them, Michelle and Kevin could be placed in foster care.”

The blood rushed to Peter’s eyes.  No.  Everything was going so well.  Child Protective Services found Michelle and Kevin.  They were supposed to come back to New York.  Michelle was going to compete at the Decathlon tournament with them.  They were going to win nationals.  And it felt like all those hopes had been yanked from under Peter.  “Foster care?” Peter managed.  “Why can’t she just live with us?  Isn’t Michelle old enough to become emancipated?  Can’t the court do that for her?”

“Mr. Kernan said it was a little trickier because Michelle is older.  Foster care was just thrown out there, but usually social workers want to keep families together,” May said.  “You just need to be open-minded and ready for anything.  Can you do that?”

 _I don’t know.  I can’t lose her._ “Of course,” Peter said.  “Did Mr. Kernan say when she was going to get back?”

“Sometime tomorrow,” May said.

“Can I see her?” Peter asked, eagerly.

May frowned.  “I think Mr. Kernan is going to want us to wait a couple of days, at least until she gets adjusted.”

Peter nodded.  He should have excepted that after everything she’s gone through.  She needed help.  Real help, not from Peter, not from Dr. Strange, from a legitimate therapist and a legitimate social worker who knows what’s best for Michelle and Kevin.  Peter getting all excited when he sees her was the opposite of what she needed right now.  She needed a friend.  Not someone who would try to solve all her problems and definitely not someone who would go behind her back because he was ‘helping her.’  She needed a shoulder to cry on, arms that would hold her tight.  Someone who would love her for her and love her scars and love her baggage.  Peter knew that was him.  He knew he could do be that person for her.

Mr. Kernan notified Mr. Harrington and Peter notified Ned.  The three of them stayed quiet that CPS found Michelle.  Stayed quiet and tried not to think about what was happening to her. 

“Did you think she’s alright?” Ned asked on Tuesday.  Peter, Mr. Harrington and Ned kept it a secret that they found Michelle.

Peter shrugged.  “I mean, physically, she’s probably fine otherwise Mr. Kernan would have told me if she was hurt, but I mean, she’s just lost her dad.”

“Poor Michelle,” Ned muttered.

“Yeah, I know,” Peter said.  “Poor Michelle…”

Peter knew Mr. Kernan was right about keeping Michelle and Kevin away from their friends, at least for the time being.  The shock of what they were going through was crippling enough, and curious bystanders would only intensify the situation.  Only, Peter was on edge all week.  He couldn’t focus on practice, which meant that the decathlon team’s performance was a taking a serious hit since the two captains, the two strongest members of the team, weren’t present.  Peter _needed_ to know what was going with MJ and Kevin for his own piece of mind.  And for Ned’s.  And Mr. Harrington’s, and every other person that Michelle has touched.  No matter what she says about herself, no matter how withdrawn she might have been her freshman year and part of this year, she still touched so many people.  The more and more trauma she went through, the more Peter realized that.  Because of that, Peter emailed Mr. Kernan a couple of times for updates.  May and Tony weren’t too happy when they found out about that, but Peter didn’t care.   

The next time Peter heard back from Mr. Kernan was Wednesday afternoon.  Peter was having a one-on-one training session with Abraham after school when he got an email from the social worker.  “Just work these questions on your own for a second,” Peter said when his phone buzzed with an email notification. 

Peter’s legs began to shake with anticipation as he grabbed onto his cell phone.  _< <Peter, I understand you’re concerned and I appreciate how much you care for Michelle.  She said that it would be alright if you wanted to see her today.  Does 5:30 at the Child Protective Services headquarters in Pomona work for you? – Douglas Kernan>>.  _Peter let out a shaky sigh of relief.  He briskly responded to Mr. Kernan with a _yes_ and then forwarded the email to May and Tony. 

“Everything alright, Peter?” Abraham asked.

Peter looked up at Abraham.  Abraham’s been a team player this week.  He’s put in extra time with the humanities team, stayed after practice to work with Mr. Harrington.  Peter was unbelievably thankful that Abraham was making this transition from having MJ on the team to her disappearing completely easier. 

“Um, sorry,” Peter stammered.  He glanced at his cell phone.  If May, Tony and Peter left now, they would probably hit rush-hour traffic, so they’d be cutting it close but Peter figured they should be able to make it on time.  “Abraham, something — something came up and I really have to go.”

“Okay…” Abraham said with puzzled eyes.  “Is everything alright?”

“Um, uh…” Peter could barely finish his sentence he was so distracted with gathering up his things and stuffing it into his backpack.  He paused, “Totally.  Yeah, everything’s — it’s all good.  Just keep studying those questions.  You’re going to great, man.  I’ll see you tomorrow!”  Peter didn’t bother waiting for Abraham to answer because he was hurrying through the hallway, calling May at the same time.  “May, did you get my text?  Are you—”

“Yes, Peter,” May interrupted.  “Tony and I are just a couple minutes away from the school.  We already called Dr. Strange.”

“Cool.  Okay, yeah, I’m just waiting outside,” Peter said.

May and Tony came swinging up the parking lot just a few minutes after their conversation ended.  May didn’t even put the car in park as Peter raced to meet her.  Peter threw his backpack in the back of the car, buckled himself up and settled into his seat, nervously.  Tony was perched in the passenger seat beside May.  He wasn’t even bothering to be subtle as he glanced back and forth between May and Peter.

“Are you going to be alright with this?  I can call Dr. Strange and tell him that we’ll come over after,” Tony offered.

Peter shook his head.  “I should be fine.”

“And you know to be… I don’t know, delicate with her?  Is that the right word?” May muttered, though it seemed like she was half-talking to herself and half-talking to Peter.

“Yeah,” Peter said.  “I understand.”

To be honest, though, Peter wasn’t so sure himself.  And he was nervous _as hell._ Peter knew a thing or two about trauma, so he understood some of the things he wasn’t supposed to say and certain ways that he wasn’t supposed to act, but what he went through as different.  Different enough to the point of where Peter’s confidence was pretty shaken.  Pretending to be passing time as they sat through traffic on his phone, Peter spent most of the car ride looking up the dos and don’ts about how to approach someone who is a victim of child abuse.  At the very least it was _something_ for Peter to go off of.  Most websites said the same thing: remain calm, reassure the kid that they’re safe, offer comfort, don’t interrogate, don’t act shocked about what happened.  Most of this was common sense, but seeing it written out helped ease Peter’s worry.

When May pulled up to the front of CPS, Peter at least felt a little better about seeing Michelle.  “Are you sure you’re alright with this?” Tony asked as they left May’s car.  “I know you want to see Michelle but if you aren’t ready—”

Peter held his hand up.  “I want to do this.”  It was more than just wanting to do this.  Peter _needed_ to this.

Mr. Kernan was already waiting in the lobby area when May, Tony and Peter walked inside.  He looked pretty tired, like he’s only had a couple hours of sleep this whole week.  The social worker shakily came forward to greet Peter.  “Hello, Mr. Parker.  Glad to see you again.”

“Yeah.  You too,” Peter said, shaking Mr. Kernan’s hand. 

Mr. Kernan shook May and Tony’s hands as well.  “How is she?” May asked, nervously.

Mr. Kernan frowned.  “As good as you can expect, I suppose.  These two poor kids have been through hell.  I — I can’t divulge everything that they’ve told me, but it was tough to hear.”  Peter always knew the abuse must have been going on for longer than just this year, but Peter never stopped to let what that implied sink in.  What Peter knew about was just the surface.  Maybe the car accident wasn’t the worst thing that her father has ever done to her.  “They’re tough kids, though.  I know Michelle and Kevin are going to get through this.”

“That’s good,” May said.  “Is there anything that we can do?  Anything at all?”

“Right now Michelle and Kevin just need to be loved and cared for and supported more than anything,” Mr. Kernan said. 

“Can you tell me where she’s staying?” Peter asked.  “Or what’s going to happen to her?”

“One of her aunts flew up to New York and offered to take Michelle and Kevin in for the time being,” Mr. Kernan said.  “Right now, everything is pretty temporary.  Since Michelle turns eighteen in a couple of years, it changes how we go about with determining custody — at least for her.”

Aunt?  Peter never even thought about her other family.  It wasn’t like Michelle talked about her family a lot.  “Can I see her now?” Peter asked.

Mr. Kernan nodded.  “Yeah.  She’s still a little shaken, but that’s to be expected.”  Mr. Kernan glanced at May and Tony.  “I’m not sure she’d be completely comfortable if you two came, though.  I’m sorry.”

“We understand,” Tony said, quickly.

“It’ll be right down the hall then,” Mr. Kernan said.  “You two can wait out here, if you’d like.”

“I’ll be back in a little bit,” Peter said to May and Tony.

Peter followed Mr. Kernan past the cubicles and through the hallways in the back.  Mr. Kernan stopped outside of a closed, wooden door.  “There’s just a couple of things I want to go over with you first.  Don’t ask her questions about what happened,” Mr. Kernan said.  “Be gentle with her.  She went through trauma.  Reassure her that she’s safe.  See if she’s okay with what’s going on.”

Peter nodded.  “Right.  Yeah, I understand.”  And he really did.  Peter has come to realize that everything she did for him at the beginning of the year, the way that she knew how to talk him out of a panic attack or comfort him the night that he went to Uncle Ben’s gravestone, it was all because _she_ understood.  She went through the same things with Kevin or herself.  Now, it was Peter’s turn to return the favor, to show her how much _he_ cared about her.

“Okay.  I’ll be right out here if you need anything,” Mr. Kernan said.

He opened the door to the waiting room.  It was a pretty plain room, no seriously bright colors or minimal clutter and decorations.  Just a few chairs, some tables, magazines, a little water jug in the corner.  Sitting in one of the couches — not so much sitting as opposed to balled up, curled into herself — was Michelle.  Just seeing her, knees pulled her chest and arms wrapped around her legs, made Peter’s heart burst.  She looked alright, all things considered.  She was wearing an over-sized sweatshirt and faded, ripped denim jeans.  Her natural curly hair was clean and well groomed, pulled back into a nice-looking braid.  If someone was making an assumption of Michelle based solely off of her appearance, no one would think twice about her.  No one would suspect what Michelle had gone through the past couple of weeks.  But Peter knew better.  And her eyes said differently, too.  They were empty.  Emotionless.  _Broken_.

For a long second, Peter and Michelle stared at each other.  She brushed her hair out of her eyes and gave Peter a weak smile.  “Hi,” she managed. 

“Hi,” Peter repeated, dumbly.  She got up slowly from the chair, but Peter didn’t want her to leave from where she was comfortable so he immediately took a step forward.  Both of them froze.  _God, why did this have to be so hard?_ “I can sit, if you would rather do that,” Peter offered.

“Sure,” MJ said.  “Whatever you want.”

Peter nodded.  At first, Peter thought about protesting.  It wasn’t about whatever _he_ wanted, but he figured now wasn’t the time to push her.  “Let’s sit,” Peter finally said.  He let her settle back into her chair while Peter sat opposite of her.  Once they were settled, Peter was at a loss for where to take the conversation now.  “Thank you for letting me see you.”

“I’m really glad you came,” MJ said, smiling.  It seemed genuine, but that happiness faded quickly.  “I’m not sure where Kevin is but, um, he would have been really happy to see you.”  She paused and then quickly added, “Are you happy to see me?”

“Yeah,” Peter blurted out.  He tried to remember that he needed to play it cool, though, so that he wouldn’t startle her.  “Yeah,” he said, quieter this time.  “I’m really happy that you’re here.  Really, _really_ happy.”

“Good,” MJ said.  She looked away from him, “I’m really sorry about decathlon.  I know you guys were really worried and I know nationals are this weekend—”

Peter shook his head.  “Don’t apologize,” Peter said, quickly.  “Believe me, we’re not mad.  I mean, I ditched the day of nationals and everyone still wants me on the team.”

Michelle smiled.  “I didn’t know what I was more upset about that day: the fact that you weren’t there or that I had to work with Flash on the competing team.”  Peter laughed, and Michelle joined in, too.  The sound of her laughter was nice, soothing even.  “I really wanted to compete with you on Saturday, and I’m sorry I can’t.”

“There’s always next year,” Peter said.  “You know, everyone on the team loves you, MJ… _Michelle_.  We’re your friends.”

She looked away again, her cheeks burning red; Peter could see the tears pooling in the corner of her eyes.  “I know,” she sniffled.  She swallowed hard, dabbing at her eyes and then turned to stare at Peter.  “Mr. Kernan said that they got an anonymous tip that they spotted me in Wisconsin.  It was you, wasn’t it?”  Michelle didn’t break eye contact as she spoke to him.

Peter nodded.  He didn’t see the point of lying to her, especially since she’s been lied to and used her whole life.  “Yeah, that was me,” Peter said.  “Everyone told me to stay out of it, but…”

“You couldn’t,” Michelle finished for him.

Peter shook his head.  “No.”

“Why not?  Why couldn’t you forget about me?” she asked.

It was a weird question, but Peter understood why she asked it.  Someone who loved her, who gave her everything in life, turned out to be her abuser.  Her father manipulated, hurt and beat her.  Peter could only imagine how much that would have damaged her ability to trust other people.  It wasn’t just about validation, it was about being concerned that Peter would do the same thing to her.  “Because you are one of the most intelligent, beautiful and amazing people that I’ve ever met.”  Peter would have added that she deserved better or that he couldn’t bear to think that she was with someone who could hurt her, but he didn’t want to scare her. 

She smiled again before burying her face in her hands and crying.  “I’m sorry,” she managed.

“It’s okay,” Peter said. 

He reached forward, hesitantly.  He didn’t have to want to initiate contact because Michelle noticed his hand and grabbed for it.  At first, MJ simply rested her soft, gentle fingers against his but quickly, she wrapped her fingers about his and squeezed.

“Thank you,” she whispered.  “Thank you for everything.”

“I would do anything for you,” Peter said.  “I love you.”  Peter didn’t mean that in solely a romantic boyfriend/girlfriend way.  Maybe they weren’t meant to be together, but that didn’t mean Peter was just going to ignore Michelle.  He would _always_ care about her through thick and thin.

She nodded.  “I know.  And I love you, too.”


	17. Her Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, I am SO sorry for taking so long to get this chapter up. I got incredibly sick for about two weeks and I was super busy every weekend so I didn't have a lot of time.
> 
> Second of all, this is the second to last chapter before this story is over! Thank you to everyone who has supported this story and I hope it comes to an end the way you all hoped! 
> 
> Hope you enjoy :)

_“A person’s most useful asset is not a full head of knowledge,_

_but a heart full of love,_

_an ear ready to listen and_

_a hand willing to help others.”_

Chapter Seventeen: Her Home

Peter wasn’t sure how long he kept a hold of Michelle’s hand as she sat, hunched over, in her chair.  It wasn’t like she would have protested if Peter pulled away but he could tell that their contact, knowing that there was someone out there who cared for her, was keeping her together.  Sometimes all Peter needed when he was upset was a hug from May or Tony being there to check on him or Michelle not giving a damn about what he was going through because all that mattered was that Peter was okay.  Her sobs eventually faded to short little hiccups and when she felt ready, Peter waited for her to pull back and straighten up, not the other way around.

At first, MJ didn’t say anything.  She reached for a tissue and wiped her eyes a little bit until she looked up at Peter with a watery smile.  “I’m sorry.  Normally, I don’t get that—”

“It’s okay,” Peter interrupted again. He wiped the tears on her cheeks with his thumb.  “You’re safe here.”  All those months ago, when Peter was in the same position, lying on his bed shaking from a nightmare, MJ was there for him.  The similarities between then and now were not hard to miss.  “I’m not going to let anything happen to you.  You’re safe.”

MJ nodded.  “I’m okay,” she whispered, shakily.

“It’s okay not to be,” Peter said.

She bit down on her lip.  “It’s just hard to get over something like this.”

“I know,” Peter whispered.  “I mean I don’t know but… you know what I mean.”

She smiled, lightly.  “Yeah.  I do.” 

“But, it’s okay.  You are _safe.”_ Peter knew he was being repetitive, which may have been a little unnecessary, but when he was going through this same kind of things, this is what he needed to hear.  “You’re safe with me.” 

“Am I?” she whispered.

The room went quiet.  The only sound that could be heard was the ticking of the clock overhead. 

“Yeah,” Peter reassured.  He wasn’t frustrated with MJ’s doubt.  After all those times her father had betrayed her trust, it was understandable for her to be doubtful.  “You know I’m not going to let anything happen to you.  I’m here for you, and I’m going to help you—”

She shook her head.  “Peter, being Spider-Man doesn’t mean that you can protect me from my past.  I can never walk away from what happened to me.  All those years of my childhood, all those times I could have been out playing with friends or going to the movies or enjoying my life, I was at home instead, locked in my room because I acted up or I was too scared to leave because I would have to see my father.  All those days lost…”  She wiped a tear away and turned to look at Peter.  “I’m never going to get those years back.  My own father took my childhood away from me.”  At first, Peter thought she was going to start crying again, but besides her shedding a few tears, she stayed pretty stoic, like she was numb to the fact. 

“I know,” Peter finally said.  “And I’m—.”  Peter stopped himself.  He knew how much he hated when people told him that they were sorry for what he was going through.  It felt patronizing and empty.  They’re sorry for what?  They had nothing to do with what happened.  “Michelle, _MJ,_ I’m still working through my problems.  There were some days where I didn’t even want to leave my bed because I’m so pissed at the world.  But there were also days where I looked at the people I’m with and I know how much I’m loved.  I can’t give you those years back.  I can’t change what happened to you in past, but I can help your future.  There are people out there who will do everything and anything for you to make sure that you’re happy, and I’m one of those people.”

Michelle leaned forward and grabbed onto Peter’s hand.  “Why did this have to happen to me?”

Peter shook his head.  “I don’t know.  Sometimes things are just out of our control.”  And it was true.  There were so many things that happened to Peter that wasn’t in his control: his parents dying, Uncle Ben dying — that was something that would take more than just a couple of weeks to come to understand.  And Peter still struggled with that.  He was nowhere near perfect, but he was learning and he was going to help Michelle learn this, too.  Peter took Michelle’s hands in his.  “This year spiraled out of my control, but you taught me to take control of it.  _You_ helped me face my fears.  I know that I have the power to improve my outlook on life, but I had to _choose_ to do that.  You have that choice and that power, too.”

“Why do I feel like I don’t have that power, though?” MJ muttered.

“Because you’ve never had this much power and control over _yourself_ before,” Peter said.  He was pushing it with saying that, but it didn’t matter.  _It was true._ “You have the chance to take control of your life.  It’s up to you to seize that opportunity.”

“I want to,” MJ said.  “I want to get better.  I want to change how I feel.  I don’t want to feel like this anymore.”

“And you can,” Peter said.  “It will get better.”

She looked away, bitterly.  “All those years this has been going on, I kept telling myself that it would get better,” Michelle muttered.  It looked like she was having a serious internal conflict with herself, but then she turned to Peter.  “When my mom died, it was really hard on our family.  I was already this awkward kid at school so the fact that I spent most of recess crying in the bathroom didn’t help.  I thought my father would be able to help me through it, but he couldn’t even handle her death himself.  Every night in sixth grade that I spent crying into my pillow, trying my hardest to make sure that Kevin or my father didn’t hear me, I thought to myself that it had to get better.  It didn’t.  It got worse and worse and worse.”

“How?” Peter asked, tentatively.  He wasn’t going to push her anymore with that question, but this was closest that MJ had ever gotten to sharing her story about what happened. 

“My dad didn’t know how to cope with losing my mother.  He didn’t have as close of a relationship with his family as my mother did with hers so there wasn’t anyone that could help my father grieve.  So…”  Michelle’s cheeks flushed red, as though whatever her father did was _her fault._ “My dad turned to drinking.  At first, it was a glass of a wine or a beer at dinner every night.  And then two a night.  And then one at lunch.  And soon that was all that he was spending his money on.  It was crippling.  It ruined our family.  We had a little money from my mom’s life insurance and my dad, somehow, still kept his job so it wasn’t like we were ever homeless, but there were times where I thought it would happen, where one day I would come home from school to see that the bank had taken our home away and that we had nothing left.

“There were stages in his alcoholism where he got better, or at least when I thought he was getting better.  There were a couple of days where he drank less or didn’t drink at all.  No one was there to help my father through his recovery, and part of me thinks that if I had done something more to help him recover, then maybe our lives would have been different.  If someone had been there to help—”  She stopped herself again, voice thick with emotion.  Peter reached forward to put a hand on hers.  As though that gave her the strength to continue, she mustered on.  “My dad tried to sober up.  A lot.  But he almost always failed.  One day, my dad went through all the alcohol we had at our house.  He was upset and irritated and _drunk,_ so he couldn’t drive to the store.  He wanted me to go for him and buy him beer.  This was around the start of seventh grade so obviously I wasn’t old enough.  I told him that.  I kept telling him that it wasn’t my fault, I can’t control how old am I but he didn’t listen…”

MJ was crying now.  Not hard enough to mask what she was saying but tears were gently and continuously streaming down her face.  “You don’t have to go on,” Peter said.  “I don’t want to force you—”

“I want you to know,” she interrupted.  She swallowed hard. “That was the first time my dad hit me.  I don’t really remember what happened.  Probably something about memory suppressing, forgetting trauma.  at least that’s what Mr. Kernan and all the doctors seem to say to me.”

Peter nodded.  “Yeah, they said the same thing to me.”

She shrugged.  “It kind of sucks, my brain shutting me out from something I want to remember.  God, I want to know how I reacted, how I convinced myself that _that_ was okay.  My dad hitting me.  What if I had said something?  What if I told one of my teachers?  Or a neighbor?  They would have called the police.  Maybe my dad wouldn’t have been taken away from me.”

“He was your father,” Peter said.  “And you were just a kid.  Of course you didn’t know how to react.”

“Yeah, everyone keeps saying that.  ‘It’s not your fault.  It’s not your fault.’  But what if it—”

“ _It isn’t_ ,” Peter interrupted.  “All those months ago when you told me that Uncle Ben’s death wasn’t my fault, you’re right.  I wasn’t the person who killed him.  You didn’t ask your father to hurt you.  You were a kid who had no one other than your dad, and he took advantage of that.”  Peter was going too far and he was sure of it, but he couldn’t stop himself.  He couldn’t just sit there and let MJ _blame herself_.  Peter leaned forward to press a kiss to MJ’s forehead, to take her into her arms as she let go.  All those walls she was holding up to keep herself together disappeared.  She sobbed and sobbed and sobbed into Peter’s arms, and he held her tight.  He gave her all the support and love that she needed and deserved and never had before.

When she was ready, MJ started speaking again, but she kept herself tight in Peter’s arms.  “After my dad hit me, it was like he suddenly woke up, like he vowed that he would get better.  My dad attempted sobriety, he would give me gifts, buy Kevin new toys and care for us, but it never lasted.  There would always be something that would set him off again.  He normally didn’t hit me that much.  It was mostly him saying comments about how I’m disappointing him or I mean nothing to him or… you probably get it.  After the first time, I managed to convince myself that he would never hurt me again.  And I did the same thing the second time.  And the third time.  Day in and day out, I would convince myself that my father loved me.”

“He was your father.  How else were you supposed to think?” Peter whispered. 

“I think I was clinging onto those times where he promised that things were going to get better.  Towards the end of eighth grade, my father got so drunk that he pushed me into a coffee table.  Gave me this nasty scar.”  She pulled the hem of her sweatshirt up just slightly to reveal pink, marred flesh on her hip.  Tentatively, almost instinctively, Peter reached forward.  When he stopped, froze almost because he realized he and Michelle weren’t dating anymore and there were still boundaries that he hadn’t broken down yet, Michelle took Peter’s hand.  She lightly pressed his fingers against the scar.  “It’s okay,” she whispered.

Peter paused for a second.  He looked in her eyes to make sure that she felt completely comfortable.  Her eyes were watering, but she was staring back at Peter with so confidence and courage.  Gently, Peter ran his finger over her scar, felt the ridged flesh under the smooth of his own skin.  It such was a blunt contrast, a terrible contrast.  He could feel her shudder around his touch and Peter pulled away.  He put his hand on Michelle’s hand. 

“It’s okay,” she finally said.  “It healed, I guess.  That was the worst thing my dad had ever done to me by then.  It shook him awake, enough to want to change.  We moved to Midtown because there was supposed to be a great rehab place.  He stayed there for quite some time my freshman year, which was why he was never really around.  I figured once he sobered up, he wouldn’t try to hurt me anymore.”  A fresh batch of tears returned to her eyes again.  “It was — it was so stupid for me to think that, really.  That’s my fault.  I could have run.  I could have told someone.  That could have been my opportunity and I wasted it.”

“You loved your dad.  There’s nothing wrong with that,” Peter said.  When MJ didn’t respond, Peter finally decided to say, “You don’t have to tell me anything else if you don’t want.  You’ve shared enough.”

“There isn’t much else to tell,” Michelle admitted.  “My dad was really great at coming up with cover stories.  The bruises.  The tears.  Even the car accident this year…  He made me lie.  I wasn’t the one driving.  I was trying to take control of the steering wheel because he was so drunk he could barely talk and we hit a pole.  And then you showed up and started asking questions and started learning the truth… so my dad tried to take us to Wisconsin.  At first, I thought he was angry but I think he was more confused.  He attempted to homeschool us.  Spoil us again.  God, poor Kevin.  He’s just a kid.  Kevin grew up not understanding that this wasn’t how parents were supposed to treat their kids.  He was around the… _the abuse_ the whole time.  My dad never hit him, at least not until a couple weeks ago but… the degrading comments, the anger, it was so normal for him and it was becoming normal for me, too.”

Peter massaged MJ’s wrist.  “That’s going to change.  There are people here to help you.”

She nodded, tearfully again.  “I know.”  There was a pause in the conversation, which Peter figured meant it was time for him to leave but then Michelle asked, “Are you here with anyone else?”

“May and Tony are outside.  I still don’t have my driver’s licenses so, um, I don’t get drive myself anywhere,” Peter said, shrugging. 

He didn’t intend for it to be a joke (he wasn’t sure if joking right now was all that appropriate) but MJ cracked a smile.  “Definitely wouldn’t want you on the road,” she joked.  Even though MJ’s eyes were still red from crying and Peter’s heart still felt heavy, the air felt suddenly lighter, more relaxed.  “Can I see them?” she asked, tentatively.  “I miss them.”

“Even Tony?” Peter asked.  “Isn’t he too ‘top 1% of America’ for Michelle Jones?”

She rolled her eyes.  “It’s just nice to know that there are people out there for me.”

Peter nodded.  “I guess that’s true.  Do you want me to get them for you?”

At first, Michelle hesitated.  She glanced at the grip she had around Peter’s fingers before reluctantly and slowly unraveling her fingers to let him go.  “Yeah.  Yeah, okay,” she whispered. 

Peter knew why she was so hesitant to let go, the fear or losing someone, that fear that Peter would never come back, so he hurried.  May and Tony were waiting outside: Tony was sitting in one of the chairs, trying hard to keep his emotions in check, while May was pacing back and forth and looking like a complete mess.  When Peter walked outside, it was as though they assumed he was leaving but Peter quickly gestured for them to come to him.  “Guys, MJ wants to see you… if that’s okay,” Peter added when he realized that Mr. Kernan was waiting on the opposite side of the hallway.

“If that’s what MJ wants,” Mr. Kernan said.

May and Tony quietly followed Peter inside.  They walked in the same way he had, nervously, tentatively.  When their eyes settled on MJ, it was obvious how hard they were trying to keep their emotions in check.  Michelle sniffled, slowly getting up from her chair and going to stand beside Peter.  She reached for his hand again, gripping on to it.  “Thank you for coming,” she finally whispered.  MJ wasn’t making eye contact with May and Tony, and Peter couldn’t tell if that was because she felt ashamed of something.

“Yeah.  Of course,” May finally said.  Her voice was heavy with emotion.  It was amazing for Peter to think that, even though MJ wasn’t Tony or May’s kid, both adults cared about MJ _so_ much. 

At first, MJ stayed holding Peter’s hands.  It seemed to take all the courage she could muster for Michelle to finally pull away from Peter and toward May and Tony.  It was a pretty awkward interaction watching as MJ debated whether or not she should approach the two adults, but eventually MJ let down all her reserves and threw herself toward May.  Without hesitation, May embraced MJ, pulling the teenager tight to her chest.  Tony stood to the side, a little nervous, before he finally put his arm on MJ’s shoulder.  No one was crying or anything, but it felt like a pretty earnest moment.  The more Peter thought about it, though, the more he realized that this may of have been one of the first times in years that MJ had been hugged by an adult who legitimately never hurt her.

“Do you have a place to stay?” Tony asked quietly.

“My aunt… on my mother’s side,” MJ sniffled.  She fell back into her place beside Peter’s; seemingly involuntarily, MJ reclaimed Peter’s hand.  “She’s here with Kevin.  I’m sure she’d want to meet you guys — and I’m sure Kevin would want to see you.”

“That’d be great,” Peter said.  “But only if that’s what you want.”

MJ nodded.  “It would make Kevin happy,” she said.  She took out her cellphone, texted someone and then slid her phone back in her pocket.  “My aunt’s name is Shelly.  Um, I didn’t really know her since my mom died when I was young but…  Anyway, I guess it doesn’t really matter.”  MJ’s face went bright red with embarrassment.  She struggled to figure out what to say next, but was saved by a knock on the door.  “That should be her.”

MJ thrust the door open quickly.  Kevin came barreling inside, excitedly.  For a kid who just lost his father, he looked pretty happy: a smile on his face, holding an iPad.  “Patrick!” Kevin squealed, running straight to Peter.  The young kid took Peter into a bear hug.  “You’re here!” 

Peter nodded, returning the hug.  “Of course, man.  I wouldn’t have missed it.”

“MJ wasn’t sure if you were going to come, but I promised her that you would,” Kevin said.

“Come on, Kevin.  Give the poor kid some space,” came a light-hearted voice. 

Peter looked up to see who he could only assume was Aunt Shelly.  She was probably around May’s age.  Her skin was the same shade of Michelle’s skin tone, and the eyes were the same, too.  Peter wasn’t sure what Michelle’s mom looked like, but the resemblance between Shelly and MJ was striking enough that Peter could only assume MJ was a spitting-image of her mother.  Aunt Shelly bore a wide smile, though it seemed somewhat fake.  Her eyes were a mix of a curiosity and exhaustion.

“Oh, that’s okay,” Peter said.  “He’s just excited.  You must be MJ and Kevin’s aunt.”

“Yeah.  Shelly,” the woman said.  At first, she leaned forward to shake Peter’s hand but then the older woman took Peter into her arms.  It was a little awkward, of course, considering that Peter was meeting Shelly for the first time, but it felt right nonetheless.  “I’m sorry.  It’s just, you’ve done a lot for us.”

“That’s alright,” Peter said.  “This is my Aunt May.  And this is—”

“Tony Stark.  Of course I know who he is.  Can’t say I’m not a little surprised, though,” Shelly said.

“Peter is one of Tony’s interns.  They’re pretty close,” May clarified.

“Well, I’m very glad that I could meet you two,” Shelly said, holding her hand out for the adults to take.  Once the introductions were over, Shelly went to Michelle’s side and put around the teenage girl.  “Michelle has told me a lot about you, Peter.”

“Good things, right?” Peter asked, jokingly.

“From what I’ve heard, there’s nothing _but_ good things about you,” Shelly said.

“I’m not sure if that’s true,” Peter muttered.  “I’m just glad that Michelle and Kevin are here now.” 

“So am I,” Shelly said.

The conversation shifted to small talk: Shelly getting to know May, Peter and Tony on a more personal level; Peter catching up with Kevin and watching as the kid played on his iPad.  MJ stayed relatively quiet throughout the whole affair but stayed close to Peter.  Despite the fact that the conversation never really died out, now that Shelly was here, it felt suddenly more serious.  It wasn’t just Peter reuniting with Kevin and MJ.  It dawned on Peter more legitimately what MJ and Kevin had gone through, what they were still going through and what they would inevitably be going through in the future.  It was remainder of the legalities of the whole situation.  After all, someone had to take over as MJ and Kevin’s legal guardian since they were both minors. 

It seemed like Peter, May and Tony were at CPS headquarters for another half an hour after they met Shelly.  “We should probably start heading back, don’t you think?” May said, looking at her watch.

Peter didn’t seem too thrilled with the idea, but he knew he should give MJ and Kevin some space.  “Yeah, I guess I do have some homework I gotta do,” Peter admitted.  He turned to look at MJ one last time.  “Is it alright if I say goodbye to MJ?” Peter asked.  “Alone?”

The adults all looked at each other for a meaningful second before Shelly eventually nodded.  “Yeah.  I mean, I’m alright with that if you all are,” Shelly said, turning to Mr. Kernan, May and Tony. 

The other adults agreed.  “We’ll be right outside if you need anything,” Mr. Kernan said. 

Mr. Kernan opened the door and the others marched outside.  Peter turned back to look at MJ.  When the door slammed shut, MJ’s eyes turned to gaze into Peter’s eyes.  It was hard to understand what she was thinking and her eyes, so worn down from everything that’s happened to her over the past couple of weeks, weren’t giving anything away.  Peter finally mustered up the courage to take a step towards her, and that was all the signaling she needed.  MJ threw her arms around Peter.  She wasn’t crying anymore, but her hold around Peter was so tight, he wasn’t sure if she was going to let her go.  They stayed like that for what seemed like a couple of minutes. 

“I’m not leaving you, you know that, right?” Peter promised.

MJ nodded.  “I know,” she said, finally unwrapping her arms from around Peter’s chest.  “And the national decathlon competition is supposed to stream live so I was planning on watching it.”

“That’s great!  I really think we’re going to do well,” Peter said.

“The team has a great president looking out for them,” she said with a smile.

“ _Two_ great presidents,” Peter corrected.  “What are you going to tell the team?  They’ve been worried about you.”

“I’m not going to lie to them about what happened,” MJ said.  “I bailed on them right before nationals so they at least deserve the truth.  And I’m going to come back to school.  I’m not going to let my dad keep me from my friends.  Not anymore.”

Peter smiled.  He tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear.  “I can’t wait,” Peter said.  He leaned forward to kiss her forehead sweetly.  He thought about kissing her again, _really_ thought about it and, judging by the look on her face, she was thinking it too.  Only, it didn’t seem like right now was the best time to initiate that.  “I guess I should get going.”

MJ nodded.  “Yeah,” she whispered.  “Maybe we can FaceTime tomorrow?  Or something, I don’t know.”

“I’d like that,” Peter said.  “Is it okay if I tell Mr. Harrington and Ned that you’re okay?  I won’t tell them anything else but I just don’t want them to—”

“You can,” MJ interrupted.  “And tell them that I miss them, too.”

Peter smiled.  “Of course.”

He gave MJ one last smile before closing the door behind him.  Outside, Shelly, May, Tony and Mr. Kernan were gathered around Kevin as the kid tried to explain to the adults the game that he was playing.  Peter listened in for a little bit until Kevin eventually lost interest and wanted to go to see Michelle again.  He gave Peter a bear hug right before he left.

“They’re good kids,” Shelly finally said when Kevin was no longer in earshot.

“Yeah, they are,” May said.  “They didn’t deserve what happened to them.”

“No one deserves what they had to go through,” Mr. Kernan corrected, though he spoke in the same calm tone as before.  “How was MJ?  She’s been pretty guarded ever since we found them.  It was pretty difficult trying to get her to open to me.”

“We’ve been through a lot together, so I guess she might have just been more comfortable with me,” Peter said.  It looked as though the adults wanted Peter to go into more detail, but he didn’t want to say anything about MJ that she wasn’t comfortable saying to others.

“That’s what I’ve heard,” Mr. Kernan said.

“What’s happening with her father?” Tony asked.

“Right now we’ve suspended his parental rights so they probably won’t be seeing him for quite some time,” Mr. Kernan explained.  “With that video you sent us, Peter, there’s not a lot of argument for Mr. Jones’s defense.  Really what we’re looking at right now is how we’re going to help Mr. Jones move forward and see if there’s a chance that we can reunite their family.”

Peter raised his eyebrows.  “Are you kidding me?  You saw what he did to her—”

“I know,” Mr. Kernan said, raising his hands.  “And I can imagine that Mr. Jones is going to be serving time for what happened.  That doesn’t change the fact that he is there father and that the court doesn’t like to tear families away from each other.  I can’t imagine Kevin or Michelle living with their father again and we’re not going to force those poor kids to see their father again.  However, if the court deems that Mr. Jones can see his kids again after going through treatment and if the kids _choose_ to see their father again, then it is a possibility.”

“But they’ll be staying with you, won’t they?” Peter asked, looking to Shelly.

“Right now, I don’t plan on letting those kids out of my sight,” Shelly said.  “Unfortunately, after my sister died, I lost touch with their family.  I had no idea what was happening otherwise I wouldn’t have let those kids out of my sight.”

“We’re working on making sure that Shelly has legal custody of Michelle and Kevin,” Mr. Kernan explained.  “Again, it seems like, after all the evidence that we’ve collected from your testimony, Peter, it’s likely that will happen.”

“My husband and I are going to find an apartment up here so that MJ and Kevin can stay with their friends,” Shelly said.

That was a relief to Peter.  It wasn’t like he would have tried to stop MJ’s family if they really did try to move away — after all, the only thing that mattered was that MJ and Kevin had the chance to recover — but it was nice to know that she was still going to be around.  The sort of relationship that Peter had developed with MJ was unlike anything that Peter had experienced before, not even with Ned.  The way they seek each other out as a source of genuine comfort was irreplaceable.  Peter cherished the sort of relationship that they shared.  And he was sure that everyone else on the Decathlon team felt the same way. 

That being said, Peter’s train of thought changed to the team.  It seemed as though MJ was planning on telling them why she had been missing for the past couple of weeks.  No lies, either.  While that didn’t necessarily mean she was going into really specific detail, that didn’t change the fact that it was an intimate, very serious part of her life.  It was hard enough for her to tell Peter and Mr. Kernan what she was going through, so he couldn’t imagine how hard it was going to be for her to tell the team.  Then again, Peter’s been seriously underestimating what MJ can endure for as long as he had known her.  She’s tough.  She’s smart.  She’s independent.  Peter _knew_ that she was strong enough to handle whatever else life throws at her.

By the time that Peter and May made it back to their apartment, it was 7:30.  Peter decided to take the day off as Spider-Man so that he could get caught up on his homework and give himself the opportunity to rest.  Not to mention, there was plenty of stuff that Peter needed to worry about for the decathlon team, all the logistics that normally MJ would be taking care of.  He tried to go to bed early that night, even though he was rolling around, thinking to himself.  The next day, Peter got hold of Mr. Harrington and Ned before their extra decathlon practice that day and told them the news about MJ.  Relieved was an understatement to how they reacted.  The team picked up on the fact that Mr. Harrington was in a better mood than usual.  It seemed bad for morale not to beat around the bush, especially when they were so worried about MJ, but that was something she needed to tell the team.

Halfway through listening to Abraham and Flash debate about the answer to a question, Peter’s phone went off.  It was from Michelle: << _Can we facetime after your practice? >>.  _Peter told the team to take a break so that he could respond.  He didn’t want to rush through practice by any means, but Peter was pretty distracted for the rest of the night.  He ended just a couple minutes early, eagerly rushing to get home.

“Where are you headed to so fast?” May asked.

“Oh, um, MJ wanted to FaceTime,” Peter explained. 

It must have been pretty obvious how eager Peter was to FaceTime MJ because May let Peter run to his rooms without any other questions.  Peter settled into his chair by his desk and tore out his laptop.  He nervously stared at the blank computer screen for a while now, nervously thinking to himself what he should say to her, if there was _anything_ that he was supposed to have said to the decathlon team now that he knows MJ was okay.  There wasn’t much time to think, though, because MJ called Peter before had the chance to do it himself.

“Hey MJ,” Peter said.  She must have been somewhere at the apartment with her aunt since Peter didn’t recognize the living room or the couch she was sitting on. 

“Hi,” she said.  Though she wasn’t as dressed up as she was yesterday, she looked better.  Her eyes lit up when she saw Peter and even the light smile seemed natural. 

At first, they eased their way into the conversation.  They asked about each other’s day, which began and ended with Peter saying that school was boring and MJ saying that she didn’t do much today.  Then, MJ moved on to asking about the progress the decathlon team was making.  Peter eagerly gave her updates and how the team was excited and nervous for nationals this weekend.  At first, it seemed as though nothing had happened between the two of them, like MJ had just missed practice and was getting an update on the team.  Peter missed the natural flow of this kind of conversation. 

Once the small talk was over and now that the conversation had shifted to the decathlon team, Peter asked, “Have you thought about telling the team what happened?”  He didn’t want to ruin the light-hearted tone of the conversation, but he wanted to know, and he knew the team wanted to know, too. 

“Yeah,” she said.  “I wrote up an email and everything, but it just seems so impersonal.  I want to be able to tell them what happened in person but I just don’t think I’m ready to do that yet.”

“No one expects you to be ready to tell them what happened,” Peter said.  “And you don’t need to go into detail or anything.  Just letting them know that you’re okay is enough.”

“I want them to know the truth, though,” MJ said. 

“I know that,” Peter said.  “All I’m saying is that if you aren’t ready to tell them every single detail, then you shouldn’t have to.  No one is going to be upset if you don’t.  I mean, no one will be any wiser, either.”

MJ nodded.  “That’s true.  Can I send you it first?  Maybe you can tell me what you think.”

“Of course,” Peter said.

“Okay, one second,” MJ said.

A moment later, Peter got a notification in the corner of his laptop that MJ had sent him an email.  He paused their conversation and opened it up.  It wasn’t too long and that made sense.  Who would want to go into detail about this kind of stuff over email no less?  << _Hi, I just wanted to say that I’m okay and I’m so sorry taking this long to reach out to you.  I know that I’m your captain and you guys were relying on me to be at nationals.  My family is having some legal and personal problems right now.  It’s been hard.  And it’s kept me from school for a while.  I don’t think I’m ready to go into detail right now, and don’t listen to whatever rumors you may hear.  I just wanted you to know that I’m okay.  I’ll still be rooting for you guys this weekend – MJ_ >>.

“Do you think that’s good?” MJ said.  “I know I left the problem pretty ambiguous, but I’m just not ready—”

“It’s good,” Peter said.  “And if people have questions I can always talk to them about it, but I won’t say anything about what you’re going through.”

“Thank you,” MJ said.  “I know that doesn’t cut it but—”

“It does,” Peter interrupted.   “You know everyone on the team is going to always be there for you, right?”

She nodded.  “That’s definitely something I’ve been starting to learn recently.”  It looked like she wanted to say something else, like there was something she was thinking over pretty hard, but then she just sighed.  “Should I just send it?  Or should I wait until tomorrow afternoon?  You know, so that they’re not just asking you questions all day?  Or what about after the competition?  I don’t want the team to throw away everything that they’ve worked for because of me.” 

“Whatever works best for you,” Peter said.  There was a pause in the conversation — it looked like she was reading over the email — and Peter seized the opportunity.  “Can I ask you something?  And if you don’t want to answer it, I’d understand.”

“Sure,” MJ said with a little nod

“How does it work with your dad and everything?” Peter asked.  She looked away, and Peter quickly feared that he had overstepped his boundaries.  “I’m sorry.  I shouldn’t have asked that.”

She frowned.  “No, no.  It’s okay to be curious.  Mr. Kernan thinks it’s best if Kevin and I don’t see my dad… at least not until the we get a ruling on a case from a judge.  That isn’t supposed to happen for a little bit so I think it’ll just be Shelly, Kevin and me for a while.  My dad isn’t in jail or anything — I’m not sure if they have enough proof to lock him away from a long time, but he isn’t allowed to see me.  And I don’t really want to see him right now so… he doesn’t know where am I or who I’m staying with, and I don’t know where he is.”

“Does that scare you?” Peter asked.

“A little.  I’m pretty sure Mr. Kernan assigned where my father was supposed to stay so I’m sure it’s nowhere close to where we are, but still…” MJ said.  “I guess it’s pretty unlikely that he’s going to come after Kevin and me, especially since Shelly won’t let us out of our sight.  And Mr. Kernan is constantly checking in on us.”

“Plus, I’m here,” Peter added.

MJ rolled her eyes, though she smiled brightly.  “And you’re here, of course.  I’ve got to say, it’s kind of comforting to know that I have Spider-Man on call for me.”

“And you have Peter Parker, too,” Peter said.  “I’m here for you.  Whenever.”

She smiled.  “I know.”

“How is Kevin taking all of this?” Peter asked.

MJ shrugged.  “He misses our dad.  A lot.  God, I just don’t know what to do about it.  I don’t know how to explain to Kevin why we might not be able to see our father anymore.”

“Do you miss your dad?” Peter asked.  To some, that might have seemed like a stupid question and perhaps it was.  Peter, however, knew that the situation was more complicated than that. 

“He’s still my father, and there are still memories that I share with him that are good.  I think it’ll always sting whenever I think about what I’m losing right now, but it’s for the best.  What he did to me… I’m not sure if those good memories are ever going to make up for that,” MJ said.  “Forgiveness just seems to out of the question right now.”

“And that’s okay,” Peter said.

“Hey Michelle, can you come help with dinner?” someone shouted off camera.

MJ sighed.  “Yeah, just give me a second!” she yelled.  She smiled, sheepishly.  “I guess that’s my cue.  Maybe you and I can talk again tomorrow,” she offered.

“Yeah,” Peter said.  “I’d like that.”

“Okay, um, I guess I have to go.”

Peter nodded.  “Alright,” he said.  “I’ll talk to you later.”

The call ended and Peter’s screen went black.

* * *

MJ sent the email right before practice started.  Peter had planned to have a short practice, too.  Go over a couple of imperative questions.  Make sure the team and their parents have all the information they needed for tomorrow.  All those things that Peter desperately needed to talk about to make sure that tomorrow’s competition goes smoothly was thrown out of the window the minute that the team walked inside.  Mr. Harrington also received the email, even though he already knew the truth behind MJ’s disappearance.  He quickly ushered the team into his classroom and got everyone settling for the addressing the elephant in the room.

“I know all of you guys are probably concerned with what MJ just sent,” Mr. Harrington said. 

“ _Probably concerned_?” Gwen repeated.  She sounded like Mr. Harrington had just personally offended her family.  “Legal problems?!Mr. Harrington, what’s going on?”

“Come on.  She’s one of our closest friends.  Is there anything that we can do?” Betty asked.

“Or is there anything more that you can tell us?” Abraham added.

Mr. Harrington raised his hands.  “Look, I appreciate how concerned you guys are about Michelle.  Peter and I only know a little bit about what’s happening and—”

“You knew about what was happening?!” Flash said, rounding on Peter.  “I know your MJ’s ex, but we care about her, too.  It isn’t that hard to include us in on the conversation sometimes, Parker.”

“It’s not in my place to tell you guys,” Peter said.  “Look, she’s going through some serious stuff right now.  I know that sounds bad, but it’s true.  What matters is that she’s okay.  She’s _safe_.  Look, I know that email was vague and I know you guys probably have a million questions right now, but MJ didn’t tell you guys a lot for a reason.  She just isn’t ready for you guys to know the whole truth.”

“So then why send that email in the first place?” Jason added.  “To scare us?”

“To let you know that she’s safe.  Would you rather be in the complete dark about what’s going on with her or at least know that, for now, she’s okay?” Peter asked.  Judging by the look on everyone’s faces, the answer was pretty clear.  There was still some frustration in everyone’s eyes — hell, even Peter was a little frustrated with the whole situation.  “I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you guys what was happening with MJ.  What she and her family are going through isn’t something that you just go around sharing with a bunch of people, no matter how close you are with them.”

“If there was something going on with her, she should have come to us,” Gwen said.  “I don’t even know what she’s going through but whatever it is, we could have been there to help her through it.”

Peter frowned.  “It’s more complicated than that.”

Silence fell among the decathlon team.  “What do we do now?” Cindy asked. 

Gwen sighed.  “I’m sorry but I can barely focus right now, let alone get quizzed for competition.”  The rest of the team agreed.

“Then we won’t do that,” Peter said.  “There’s just a couple of things Mr. Harrington and I need to go over for tomorrow and then we’ll let you guys go home early.  Does that sound alright?”

The team nodded.

Peter and Mr. Harrington tried to stay brief when summarizing what was happening this weekend: the national competition was in Pennsylvania this year, so the drive wasn’t nearly as long as it was at the beginning of the year.  By car, it would take no more than three hours to get to their hotel, but by bus, Peter assumed it would take a little longer.  They were planning on leaving at 7:30 tomorrow morning.  They don’t compete until 4:30 that day, which meant that there was time to settle, get food and, most importantly, they had plenty of time in case something happened on the way there.  The team was supposed to leave Sunday night, which meant they had all day to sight-see.  Peter and Mr. Harrington let the team vote on what sights the team could see and what restaurants to go to.  Then, Mr. Harrington went through room assignments.  Peter felt like they were rushing through everything he was saying but the team went through so much already there was no need to keep them at the school any longer than necessary.  Within forty-five minutes, Peter and Mr. Harrington were all wrapped and the team was dismissed.

Peter was gathering up his belongings as the team left when he realized that someone was walking up to him.  Peter turned around.  “Flash?  What’s up, man?” Peter said, somewhat confused.  

Flash wasn’t making eye contact with Peter at first, and that was alarming.  “Look, um, this whole thing with MJ got me thinking.  Even though something bad happened to her, I still can’t help but think how hard it must have been for you to keep to yourself, especially after… everything that’s happened to you.”

Being taken aback was an understatement.  This was _Flash Thompson,_ Peter’s rival, Peter’s bully for years, and now the dude was expressing _empathy_.  “Oh,” Peter said.  “It’s not that big of deal.  I had, um, there were people that I could talk to about it.”

“I know,” Flash said.  “I guess I just haven’t made it easier on you.”

“It’s alright, man,” Peter said. 

“I guess I’ll see you tomorrow morning,” Flash said.

“Yeah, see you,” Peter said, slightly stunned.

Even though it was supposed to be an early morning the next day, Peter still went on rounds that night.  It was quick and easy, which was good because Peter was distracted with thinking about tomorrow and the team and how they were taking the news about MJ.  _Was it more cruel to send that email?  Would it have been better if they had just been kept in the dark?_   Peter had to stop thinking about that.  It was going to drive him crazy.

He got back to his room at around 12:30 that night, took a quick shower, checked to make sure that his bag was all packed and then tried to sleep.  _Tried_ being the important word because he was so nervous that Peter barely got a wink of sleep.  All things considered, Peter had been sleeping pretty well recently so going off that little sleep took a pretty obvious toll on his appearance.  May rolled her eyes as she set out his breakfast.  She took a comb and ran it through his hair as he ate.

“What did I say about going on rounds last night and not getting enough sleep?” May said.  Recently, she’s been more willing to talk about Spider-Man stuff, especially since she’s come to realize that it isn’t something that’s going to go away anytime soon.  Even though May doesn’t beat around the bush as much, it wasn’t exactly something she _enjoyed_ talking about.

“I came back around midnight,” Peter muttered.  “I was just nervous so I couldn’t sleep.”

“Oh.  I’m sure you’ll be fine.  You know your stuff,” May said.  “Tony and I are driving up a little later today.  Your first round is 4:30, right?”

Peter nodded.  “Yeah.  But I think we have to be there a little earlier for orientation.”

“We’ll get there earlier then if that’s what you’d like,” May offered.  She leaned over to kiss his forehead before checking her watch.  “I think it’s time for you to go.  We’re going to be late.”

Peter scrambled to gather his backpack and duffel bag before hurrying with May to their car.  Most of the team was already waiting in the parking lot of Midtown.  Peter quickly threw his stuff in the back while he started doing his routine attendance checks.  After getting everyone settled in their seats, the team was on the road by 7:45 am.  Despite the news MJ dropped on them yesterday, everyone was in a pretty good mood.  They were excited and nervous about the competition all at once.  Peter let the team get settled for a little bit before quizzing them to make up for what they missed out yesterday at practice.  After going through the flashcards and feeling satisfied with the team, Peter gave it a rest.

There were a couple other teams staying at the same hotel they were so it was pretty chaotic trying to get the team organized.  Mr. Harrington and Peter decided to keep the team on the bus while they went to check in.  They were all the second floor, which was good because the elevators were all backed up with the influx of kids trying to get to their rooms.  Ned and Peter led the team up the flight of stairs, Mr. Harrington yelling the entire time.  “Unpack quickly, get changed, relax for a little bit.  Meet back in the lobby in an hour so that we can get food and start heading over to the competition!”

Peter and Ned were rooming together again, and their room was 202 so they didn’t have far to go.  After throwing their suitcases on the ground and picking which side they wanted, they hung out for a little bit before heading back to the lobby.  There was a sandwich place pretty close to where the competition was being held so the team decided to get lunch there.  They were going to be there a little early, but that at least gave them time to get situated in their room before orientation and first round stated.  The venue, this really nice building in the heart of Philadelphia, was packed and crowded and _loud._ It gave Peter a headache just hearing the various conversations and trying to tune out all the chaos.  After going through security, Mr. Harrington went to the check-in place to get their room assignment and schedule. Peter was glad when he saw Mr. Harrington come bustling back.  The sooner Peter got out of this crowded place, the better.

“We’re right down here,” Mr. Harrington said, unlocking the door.  It must have been some kind of conference room since there was a huge oak table in the center and a projector.  Other than that, though, there wasn’t much furniture or decorations.

Parents began trickling in over the next hour.  When May and Tony showed up, Peter was relieved.  He knew they were coming but having them here made him feel more relaxed, more at home.  “You nervous, kid?” Tony asked, patting Peter on the back.

“A little,” Peter said, shrugging.  “I just really want win.”

“Is your first round soon?” May asked.

“Not really.  Another couple of hours.  We have orientation pretty soon, though, so—”

“Wait, is that Michelle?!” Gwen exclaimed suddenly over the loud conversation.

Peter stopped his conversation with Tony and May and sighed.  He shook his head.  “She said she was watching it—…”

He stopped short.  It _was_ MJ.  She was standing near the doorway, her aunt and Kevin hiding behind her.  Dressed in a nicer looking shirt and a pair of jeans, she looked at the decathlon team with a mix of embarrassment, sorrow and excitement.  The team reacted as though they had just won the tournament again.  They shouted her name and began hurrying toward her.  MJ looked pretty overwhelmed as she stared at the mass of teenagers coming after her.  Peter thought about telling the team to back off, but he watched as MJ’s smile widened as Gwen and Betty pulled her into a fervent hug and thought otherwise. Peter felt his heart warm as the team embraced Michelle.  It didn’t matter that she cut off contact with the team, that she missed nationals because of what was happening.  No one cared.  What mattered was that she was here.  They could see her in person.  They could hug her.  They could talk to her.  This was where she belonged.  This is the people who she belonged with.  This was her home.

Peter let the team have their reunion with Michelle while he stood near the back with May and watched.  Halfway through, Kevin came running forward, too excited to stand in the back with their aunt.  Flash greeted Kevin with a huge fist bump.  Even Mr. Harrington couldn’t resist going over to MJ and giving her hug.  Ned was just as excited.  Because he knew the real reason why MJ had been gone for the past couple of weeks, the way he looked at her, the sheer joy on his face was all the more genuine and sincere.

“Glad you’re back,” Ned said, giving MJ a hug. 

“Glad to be back,” she said.  “And I’m sorry I missed nationals.”

“That doesn’t matter,” Gwen said.  “We’re just glad you’re here.  And we’re always here for you if you need anything.”  She put her hand on MJ’s back and gave her a one-armed hug.

“I brought you guys something,” MJ said.  There were tears in her eyes.  MJ blinked a couple of times and tried to gather herself.  She turned to her aunt, who stepped forward, caring a bundle of red roses.  “I know it isn’t much but…”  MJ began to hand the roses to everyone.  “I just thought I should get something for you guys after missing nationals and… I don’t know, I just wanted to get this for you.”

Each person took the time to personally thank MJ and give her a hug.  The entire time there was someone crying, whether it was MJ, who was trying to keep it together as she handed the roses out; or Gwen, who was beside herself; or Flash, who looked like he was trying hard to hold it together, even though MJ was safe and it was obvious how relieved he felt.  When MJ reached Peter, she didn’t hand the rose to him right away.  She stared at him for a long second.  She didn’t say anything, and Peter stayed quiet, too.  Everything that Peter could think of saying right now — the thank you’s, the ‘I’d always be there for you’ — went _unsaid._ Their story was unique.  And beautiful.  By no means perfect, but it was something special.

“I feel like I’m on _the Bachelor_ ,” Peter said.

MJ laughed.  “You know how much I hate that show.  But, I guess if we’re sticking with that metaphor, do you accept my rose?”

Peter nodded.  “Of course.”  Peter took hold of the rose and smiled.    

The room stayed quiet for another second.  It seemed like everyone’s eyes were on MJ and Peter, not that they had any idea what those two had gone through together.  “We should take a team picture!” Betty exclaimed.  She took MJ’s hand.  “Come on.  You’re getting in this one.”

“Are — are you sure?” MJ stammered.  “I’m not really contributing much to the team this competition.”

“Are you kidding?” Flash said.  “You really think Peter whipped us into shape for nationals alone?”

“Thanks Flash,” Peter muttered.

“Nah, I’m just messing with you, dork,” Flash said.

Flash put his arm around Peter and dragged him toward where they were taking their team picture.  After some of the parents finished fussing over getting the students into the right places (and May going around to help the girls wipe off their smudged makeup from all the tears), the team was ready to take a picture.  Peter stood beside MJ.  At first, he stared at her hesitantly.  She still looked overwhelmed, but happy, nonetheless.  She reached over to put her hand on Peter’s arm, until she was standing so close next to him that Peter’s head was grazing MJ’s head.  There was a blinding amount of flashes from various phones and cameras until the parents gestured for Mr. Harrington to go join the photo.  That was enough permission for Kevin, too, because he hurried into the photo.  At first, MJ looked pretty embarrassed but the entire team excitedly welcomed in her younger brother. 

“Aw, that’s so cute,” Shelly said. 

“Can someone make sure to put those photos in the group email?” Mr. Harrington asked.  He turned to Shelly.  “And, god, that was so rude me, I’m Mr. Harrington.”  Practically every single parent hurried to introduce themselves to MJ’s aunt. 

“I’m assuming you’ve already met May?” Gwen’s mother asked.

“Yes,” Shelly said.

“I can show you all the ropes to being a decathlon parent,” May said.  The other parents nodded in agreement.

“I’m sure I’ll be sticking around for a while so that would be good,” Shelly said.  There were plenty of questions that Peter was sure would come from that statement, but could wait for a later time.

Peter turned to look at MJ.  “Are you excited to watch us win this competition?”

MJ rolled her eyes.  “Don’t get too arrogant on me, Peter.”

Peter raised his hands up in surrender.  “We had some good captains this year so I’m not that concerned.”

“I guess we did have a few good captains this year,” MJ said, nudging Peter’s shoulder playfully.  The euphoria of having MJ back with the team, even though she was standing in the crowd and watching the team, stayed with Peter for the rest of the day. 

The team went on to win that national competition.


	18. A New Year

_“Rock bottom became the solid foundation_

_on which I rebuilt my life”_

~ J. K. Rowling ~

Chapter Eighteen: A New Year

~ September ~

“If you keep fussing over your shirt, it’s going to get wrinkly again,” May frowned.  She pushed Peter’s hand away and took it upon herself to readjust the collar of his button-up black short-sleeve shirt.  They studied their reflections in the mirror of May’s room.  “See?  It looks fine.”

Peter rolled his eyes, shrugging off May’s arm.  May turned her back to go pick out a pair of shoes for herself, during which Peter seized the opportunity to size his appearance up one more time: other than the simple button-up shirt, he had on his nicest pair of jeans and pair of casual oxford shoes (he thinks that’s what they’re called but he’s not sure — Tony got it for him).   This morning, May had taken him to get his haircut so at the very least, it wasn’t unruly or too gelled back.  He looked fine, pretty good in his humble opinion but he couldn’t stop thinking that there was something wrong.  It wasn’t like May and Peter were going to a red-carpet event or anything, but Peter was supposed to look nice.  He wanted to make a good first impression.

Tony was coming to get May and Peter pretty soon to head to Shelly, MJ and Kevin’s new place in downtown Queens.  Shelly and her husband moved to Queens from somewhere on the west coast, California possibly.  They rented out an apartment a couple blocks away from Midtown so that MJ and Kevin could finish out their schooling in the same city with the people they know.  Shelly, her husband and MJ and Kevin had just finished unpacking and getting everything set up so they were hosting a house-warming party.  According to MJ, it was supposed to be a casual event but a lot of MJ’s family on her mom’s side was coming.  The uncles and cousins and aunts that MJ had only met a couple of times.  Peter didn’t want them thinking of him as some random, strange kid that was picked up off the streets.  He wanted to look clean, presentable, responsible.  You know, those kinds of things that adults think about when they meet younger people. 

“If you saw me for the first time, what would you think of me?” Peter asked.

May rolled her eyes.  “I think you look like a very stand-up individual who cares about the way he looks.  And as long as you _act_ that same way, MJ’s family will love you.”  May stood beside Peter, putting her arms around his shoulders.  “Will you relax?  I thought you guys were just friends.”

“We are,” Peter muttered.  “It’s just more complicated than that.”

And it really was.  There was too much history between MJ and Peter for them to go back to being just friends after what happened to them last year.  They knew too much about each other, _cared_ about each other too much for all those feelings they had to just disappear.  Only, there was a lot of things that MJ needed to sort through at the end of last year.  Mr. Kernan was diligent in getting MJ and Kevin settled and adjusted to ‘normal’ life after their father was arrested.  She came back to school for the end of her sophomore year and worked extensively with her teachers to get herself caught up on whatever she had missed in her absence.  Though Peter and the decathlon team knew bits and pieces of the full and real story about what happened to her, no one else in the school did.  In fact, no one seemed to notice that MJ had been gone for so long.  There were stories about her being sick for a long period of time or having some moderate family troubles, but no one associated _child abuse_ with MJ.  It was better that way.  Keeping MJ out of the spotlight and away from all the nasty rumors was good and helpful.  It was truly amazing that the decathlon team managed to contain any of those rumors, and to keep the truth a secret.  She hadn’t told them the full story yet, but the students on the team weren’t stupid.  MJ stopped living with her father.  That alone was enough of an indicator to the team about what happened.

In addition to trying to catch up on her school work, the legal process was a nightmare.  A full court trial wasn’t necessary given the sort of concrete evidence that Peter had given CPS and it was pretty clear after hearing MJ and Kevin’s story that Mr. Jones wasn’t suited to be their legal guardian.  Shelly and her husband took over guardianship, a legal process which still had plenty more paperwork to be filled out before it became official.  According to MJ, her father’s name had been put on some kind of statewide central register for child abuse and maltreatment and would remain on there until Kevin was 28 years old.  Peter wasn’t sure what that would do to Mr. Jones’s future, but it must have been something important.  As for what happened to Mr. Jones, it seemed like CPS wasn’t planning on pursuing any criminal charges.  MJ, being the oldest child and being the one who was abused the most, was caught in the middle.  She was in and out of CPS headquarters throughout the entire summer.  Peter knew how stressful constantly retelling your story, constantly having to face the nightmares that you desperately wanted to forget is.  MJ just wasn’t in the right head space to think about dating someone right now.

 Peter understand that, and even if he didn’t, he didn’t have a right to force MJ into a relationship.  She needed the last few months to process what had happened to her, to understand and come to terms with the fact that her father didn’t have legal custody of her anymore, to accept herself and her flaws and her baggage.  MJ was understandably private about her recovery process.  Mr. Kernan found her support groups, outreach programs, even light therapy and counseling.  He stressed to Peter, Shelly and May that having a support system beyond those things, however, was necessary and imperative, too.  Being there to drive her to these support groups, letting her know that she wasn’t a burden, expressing that they cared about her for the _right_ reasons was necessary.  It was a matter of reshaping the way that MJ viewed the world, changing ideas that she had grown up with; the world didn’t work the way her father taught her.  When Peter brought her dinner or offered to babysit Kevin so that she could go to art classes, he had to make sure that she knew he didn’t expect anything in return.  Everyone’s love for MJ was _selfless._

Peter didn’t get to see MJ nearly as much as he would have looked over the summer.  He understood that she was busy trying to sift through her own life.  When Peter was struggling through the counseling and trauma himself, there were days when he didn’t want to see anyone.  He was lucky whenever he could come over for dinner at wherever MJ was staying at (Shelly had to bounce around a little bit until they managed to find a more permanent home).  Despite the fact that they didn’t get to see each other that much, part of Peter thought that being with him was MJ’s way of escaping all the pain in her life — though MJ would never admit something like that.  Whenever they were together, it seemed like it was her only time to really relax.  Be herself.  _Be carefree._ Even though Peter still loved her even and definitely wouldn’t mind going out with her again, knowing that hanging out with her brought her joy was enough. 

Those feelings Peter and MJ developed during their sophomore hadn’t gone away.   

May looked at her phone.  “Are you ready to go?  Tony’ll be here in about five minutes.”

Peter took one look at himself in the mirror again before nodding, “Yeah.  I think so.”

After gathering their jackets and grabbing their house-warming gift, this set of expensive spices, May and Peter hurried to the front of their apartment.  Tony pulled in a second later, driving one of his older Audis.  “You wanna drive, kid?” Tony offered as he got out of the driver’s seat.  The older man held up the car keys.

Peter rolled his eyes.  He had gotten his licenses over the summer, so Tony and May were always making jokes about him driving them around.  “Very funny.”  May and Tony shared a meaningful look between each other, one that Peter noticed and was pretty suspicious of.  “What?  Just because I got my licenses doesn’t mean I’m going to chauffeur you two around.  You guys are still the adults here.”

“Actually, Tony and I were talking,” May said, a grin stretching wide across her face, “and we thought that, after everything that you’ve accomplished last year, you deserved a present.”

Peter raised his eyebrows.  He had an idea of where May and Tony were taking this, but he didn’t want to jump to any rash conclusions.  He glanced at Tony’s car and then back to the two adults.  “You don’t mean—”

Tony held the car keys up.  “It’s yours, kid.”

Peter felt like he could fly.  “No way!  That’s awesome!”  Peter hurriedly got a good look at the car, admiring the sleek black paint, the pristine interior.  It was a 2014 model so it was only a couple years old.  Peter recognized it from when he visited the compound and he had to say that it was one of his favorite cars.  “Thank you!  Thank you, Mr. Stark!  This is incredible!” 

“You earned it, kid,” Tony said.  “Plus, I’ve got plenty of cars and I’m running out of garage space.”

“This is amazing!  This is the best present I could ever ask for!” Peter said.  He ran over to Tony, debating whether or not he should give the man a handshake or a hug.  Peter settled for both.  He was just so excited that his brain was keeping him from making up his mind.  Peter turned to May.  “And this is okay?  We can afford the insurance and parking and everything?”

May raised her eyebrows.  “Since when did you start worrying about that kind of stuff?”

“I’m 16.  I have my driver’s license.  I’m practically an adult,” Peter exclaimed.

“Didn’t you just say that we were the adults.  Not you?” May said.

“Okay.  I’m _almost_ an adult,” Peter said.  He turned to Tony again.  “Thanks.  Really.  I mean, you didn’t have to do this—”

“You deserve this, Peter,” Tony said.  Tony put his arm on Peter’s shoulder, beaming down at his young protégé.  “You have no idea how much you’ve grown since the fourteen-year-old that I recruited two years ago.”

 Peter grinned.  “I had a good mentor.  Are you sure you don’t want to drive it one more time before you give it up?”

“I think I’m good.  It’s all yours,” Tony said.

Peter was all smiles as he got into the driver’s seat of his _new car_ (he still couldn’t believe that he could say that).  It wasn’t nearly as long of a drive as Peter expected trying to get to MJ’s house but after all the ‘watch out, you’re going too fast’ or the ‘are you even watching the road’ exclamations from May and Tony, Peter was relieved to pull up to MJ’s new home.  Peter was pretty good at paralleling parking, despite the fact that May refused to look as Peter pulled into his spot, so he didn’t have a problem pulling into the last spot in front of her apartment.  It was a brick-building and looked like it was pretty new.  The paint was fresh and there weren’t unruly vines wrapped around the building.  The apartment was surrounded with a black gate, which required Peter and May to buzz in to MJ’s apartment to get inside.  They were let in a second later.  May, holding the housewarming gift, led Tony and Peter up the flight of stairs.  There were signs posted along the walls, indicating that they were going in the right direction to the party.  They stopped right outside of MJ’s apartment door.

“Are you nervous?” Tony asked.  He must have noticed that Peter was wringing his hands together every few seconds, or he must have noticed Peter’s face.  Really, there were plenty of indicators about how Peter felt.

Peter shrugged.  “A little.  But, that’s to be expected, right?”

Tony nodded.  “Of course.” 

The two shared a grin before May reached forward to ring the doorbell.  There was a little bit of shuffling around until the door was thrust open by Kevin.  Peter, May and Tony stared down at the little boy, dressed in a button up pink plaid shirt and a matching bowtie.  It wasn’t nearly as crowded as Peter expected but there was still a fair amount of people in their apartment.  It was easy to spot which ones were MJ’s relatives because they all looked like her, Kevin or Shelly.  Peter took a quick glance inside to get a feeling of MJ’s apartment: on his left was the living room and dining room.  Blue couches atop a cream-colored shag carpet.  A glass table with coasters, plants and recipe books on top.  At the far end of the living room was a fire place, the hearth of which was covered with more photos and knickknacks.  The dining room was simple, comprised of a nice oak table with six matching chairs around it.  On top were loads of appetizers from bread and cheese, to walnuts and almonds, to a vegetable platter, to desserts.  MJ’s art — Peter recognized it from her art show last year — hang on the wall behind the dining room table.  It was nice seeing her art appreciated her, and that Shelly and her husband were more than supportive of MJ’s artistic endeavors.

 “Shelly, MJ, Patrick is here!” Kevin said, excitedly, holding the door wide open for the three of them.

Shelly, who was coming from the living room just off to the left of their front door, frowned.  “Kevin, what did we say about calling _Peter_ Patrick?”  The whole Patrick thing hadn’t really gone away, despite the fact that Shelly and MJ corrected Kevin almost every time he called Peter by the wrong name.  Peter didn’t really mind that much.  It was just Peter and Kevin’s thing.

Kevin frowned.  “It’s fine.  Peter knows I know his real name.  See?” the younger boy taunted.

Shelly rolled her eyes, though the smile returned to her face.  “Can you go find your sister?” Shelly asked. 

Kevin sighed.  “Fine, I guess.”  He ran off down the hallway to the right.

“I’m glad you guys could make it,” Shelly said, reaching forward to give May and Peter a hug and to shake Tony’s hand. 

“Of course.  Your place is beautiful,” May said.  She handed Shelly the housewarming gift.  “We got this for you.”

“Thank you,” Shelly said.  She glanced to the side for a second.  She must have noticed someone because she quickly waved her hands and yelled, “Hey Harrison!  Come meet Peter and May.”  This tall, pale guy with a wide grin, came over and put his arm around Shelly.  “This is Harrison.  He’s my husband.  I’ve told you about May and Peter Parker.  And you probably know Tony Stark.”

“Of course I know who Tony Stark is,” Harrison said.  He let go of Shelly to shake everyone’s hand.  “I can’t believe there’s an actual Avenger standing in my living room right now.”

Shelly rolled her eyes.  She hit her husband in the shoulder.  “I’m sorry about him.”

Tony grinned.  “Oh, that’s alright.  At least you don’t hate me.”

“I could never hate the man that trained Spider-Man,” Harrison said.  “Do you really know him?”

 Tony chuckled.  “Yeah, we’re pretty close.”

“You cannot talk about anything other than Spider-Man, can you?” Shelly said, rolling her eyes.  “Will you at least introduce yourself to Peter and May?”

May laughed.  “It’s okay.  All Peter talks about is Spider-Man, too,” she said, reaching forward to shake Harrison’s hand.

“You’re a fan, too?” Harrison asked.

“Something like that,” Peter said.

“I’m assuming your MJ’s… _friend_ ,” Harrison said.

Peter’s face flushed red, and Shelly hit Harrison in the shoulder.  “Uh, yeah,” Peter said, uncomfortably.  He studied Harrison’s expression for a second longer, wondering if Harrison or anyone else at this housewarming party knew how much of a role Peter had to play in getting MJ away from her father.  To be fair, Peter wasn’t sure even sure if Shelly knew that it was Peter who tipped off CPS about MJ’s locations. 

“Kevin, I’m coming!” someone exclaimed. 

Peter would have recognized MJ’s voice from anyone.  There must have been a staircase on the right because all of a sudden, she appeared around the corner, dressed in dark-wash jeans and a shirt with what looked like Elvis Presley’s face on it, and being dragged forward by her younger brother.  The past couple of months have been good for MJ in terms of physical appearance.  It looked like she was finally getting a good and regular amount of sleep so the bags under her eyes weren’t nearly as prominent as they were before.  Her smile seemed more genuine now.  It was amazing how much her relationship with her father had taken a toll on her looks, and it was great to see her truly happy. 

“Hi,” MJ said, beaming when she saw Peter.

“Hi,” Peter said, returning the same smile.  There was a warmth between them as they smiled at each other that would have been hard to miss. 

“ _MJ and Peter sitting a tree.  K-I-S-S-I_ —” Kevin started.

MJ scowled.  Her and Peter both flushed bright red.  She pushed her little brother over.  “Kevin!”

“What?  I’m just joking,” Kevin muttered.  He ran away to talk to some more of his relatives.

“Sorry,” MJ muttered, looking down at her feet. 

“I guess that’s what siblings are for,” Peter said.

The adults shared meaningful glances between each other, glances that both Peter and MJ noticed.  “MJ, why don’t you give Peter a tour of the place?  I can entertain the adults.”

“Yeah, that sounds good to me,” MJ said.  “I’m sorry about Kevin.  He seems to think that — I just he completely gets it.”

“Nah, that’s alright,” Peter said. 

MJ led Peter down the hallway on the left, and the farther they got from the kitchen, the quieter it got.  One side of the wall had every single one of Kevin’s school photos and on the other side were every single one of MJ’s school photos.  Peter stopped short to look at the younger photos of MJ.  “Oh my gosh!” Peter exclaimed.  He honestly didn’t remember seeing photos of her when she was younger, so he took in the moment.   

“Okay, okay,” MJ said. 

Her face was bright red.  She took Peter’s hand and dragged him down the hallway.  It wasn’t all that intimate of a touch — it was just hands.  But Peter couldn’t even remember the last time that they hugged.  At first, MJ seemed surprised with herself initiating that sort of contact, but when Peter didn’t pull away, she didn’t either.  They stayed hands locked as MJ walked Peter through the rest of the downstairs: first Kevin’s bedroom and his bathroom, then the master bedroom.  Considering that Shelly, MJ and Kevin had just recently moved into this apartment, it was pretty well-decorated and personalized.  Photos upon photos.  Unique artwork that must’ve had a story to them.  Even MJ’s art was hanging up. 

“Where’s your bedroom?” Peter asked after leaving Shelly and her husband’s bedroom.

“It’s upstairs,” MJ said.  She pointed toward the staircase that was right next to the entrance into the living room.  Now that they were closer to the main room, MJ let go of Peter’s hand as she led him up the stairs.  “Shelly figured since I was older, I could have a little bit more space.  Plus, it’s next to the balcony, which they let me use as a studio since I don’t have a garage anymore.” 

She reached the closed door to the top floor.  Swinging it open, Peter could only assume it probably supposed to be a bonus room, considering the sheer size.  The room was divided into two sides, her right side containing her bed and a TV, looking like an actual room, and other side being where MJ did her artwork.  On the right, her bed had a plain white comforter and matching pillows with a wilted, greenish-yellow quilt folded up neatly on the foot of the bed.  Similar to how she decorated her old bedroom, twinkle lights wrapped around her walls.  The walls were bare, though, a few pictures here and there.  The same nightstand from her old bedroom was next to her bed, too.  As Peter got a closer look, he realized that the photo on her nightstand was of him and MJ at the winter dance.  Just thinking of that night brought a surge of positive emotions through Peter’s body.

He turned to the other side of her room, what Peter would have considered to be her personal studio.  There was a tarp along the floor, which was a good touch because there were plenty of paint splatters on it, and a rusted up cabinet covered messily with paint bottles and brushes.  There were stacks of canvases.  Peter stopped short.  He walked over to the canvases and picked up the one at the front: it was the painting that MJ drew of Spider-Man soaring through downtown Queens.  It looked even more beautiful on a large scale.  The red seemed brighter, the gold seemed to stand out more against the grays and blacks of the background.  It was _amazing._ And it was of Peter, too.  It meant so much to him that she had spent the time to make something as beautiful as this drawing _with him_ featured in it.

“Oh,” MJ said when she realized what Peter was looking at.  She went to stand beside him.  “Yeah, one day I just found my sketchbook and, um, I just got back into art.”

“What do you mean?” Peter asked.  He started going through the rest of the canvases.  None of the others were even close to being as finished as the one with Spider-Man.  There were pencil lines etched across some, a few splashes of colors but that was about it.  “These are amazing by the way.”

MJ smiled.  “Thanks.”  She crossed her arms.  “I just haven’t had a lot of inspiration lately.  My dad didn’t actually ruin my artwork like he made it seem.  He hid them at a storage unit somewhere, so Mr. Kernan was able to recover most of it.  A lot of what I did before, it was all… I guess you could say that my dad was the inspiration.  When Shelly took us, I felt lost.  I guess it’s for the best considering _how_ my dad gave me ideas for my artwork.”  MJ stopped herself.  She glanced at the painting of Peter.  “This is the first artwork I’ve done that’s made me feel happy when I look at it.”

Peter wasn’t sure whether to smile or feel bad for her.  Perhaps a little bit of both.  “It’s beautiful.  Do I get it?” he added, jokingly. 

MJ shrugged.  “I don’t know.  I was thinking of keeping it with me as a token of a past relationship.  Or, I could always sell.  I bet I could get a lot of money off of this, considering that everyone wants a painting of New York’s favorite superhero in their living room.”

“I’m pretty sure Harrison would buy it off of you,” Peter said.

She smiled.  “Yeah, he’s pretty obsessed with Spider-Man.  He would freak out if he knew that the famous masked vigilante was standing in his house this very second.”  She set the painting back against the other canvases and went to sit at the chair by her desk.  “Are you excited for junior year?”  MJ glanced at the stack of pencils and new binders.

“It’s school so… sort of.  Are you?”

MJ nodded.  “Yeah.  It’ll be nice to have something to take my mind off of everything.  Then again, I’m not sure if I’m really looking forward to taking AP Chemistry.”

“We both survived general chem so I’m sure you and I can survive AP chem together,” Peter said.

“We’ve survived a lot more,” MJ whispered.  Though it was a serious comment and a lot more meaningful than it should have been, Peter and MJ both smiled it off.  The conversation paused for a second in which Peter went back to admire more of MJ’s artwork and MJ stayed in her chair to watch Peter.  Then, she got up, cleared her throat and said, “I’m going to grab some food.  Do you want to come with me?”

Peter set some of her paint back and nodded.  “Sure,” he said. 

They went downstairs to the kitchen, which seemed to have grown suddenly more crowded.  There were plenty of faces that Peter didn’t recognize, smiling faces that turned to pat MJ on the back and introduce themselves to Peter as the two teenagers tried to make their way to the food.  Even though they barely knew Peter (he assumed — again, he wasn’t sure what Shelly told them), they were very welcoming and very excited to get to know him.  Peter and MJ answered the same question of ‘how was your summer?’, ‘are you excited for junior year?’, ‘have you started thinking about colleges yet?’ and ‘how did you two meet?’ over and over again, but everyone was friendly.  By the time that MJ and Peter made it to the dining room table, Peter had met Shelly’s boss, Shelly’s oldest sister, MJ’s grandfather, some cousins, a few friends from Shelly’s work, a couple of people from Harrison’s work and then a few of Harrison’s college friends.  Peter felt bad because he wasn’t great with names so he kind of hoped he wouldn’t have to introduce Tony and May to anyone.  Then again, Tony and May were fitting right in MJ’s family, which seemed like a positive sign to Peter.

“Sorry about them,” MJ said as she picked up a paper plate and began putting bread and cheese on it.  “They’re all really excited to meet you.”

Peter shrugged.  “That’s a good thing, though, right?”

MJ smirked.  “Sure.  We’ll go with that.  Do you want anything to drink?”  She pointed to the cooler on the kitchen counter. 

“I’ll take lemonade.  Here, let me grab that,” Peter said.  He took the paper plate as MJ went to scrounge up some drinks. 

Now that they had filled their plates with snacks and had drinks for both of them, they hurried back upstairs.  At first, Peter was planning on sitting at MJ’s desk but she rolled her eyes.  “You can sit on the bed with me.  It’s not like we’re doing anything,” she said. 

Peter held his hands up in surrender.  “I didn’t want to overstep any boundaries.”

“I figured you and I have gotten past that,” MJ said.

“True,” Peter said.  He looked down at the plate food, deciding to eat the bread with Shelly’s homemade spinach dip.  He practically moaned as he took his first bite.  “Oh my god.  Shelly needs to give May the recipe.  This is _amazing.”_

“I’ll tell her you said that,” MJ said, laughing.  She paused for a second before adding, “Jeez, Peter.  You know, you don’t have to swallow your food whole.  There’s still plenty left.”  She sounded pretty serious, but Peter could see the smile curving at the corner of her lips.  They paused their conversation for a second as they enjoyed their food.  After a long period of quiet, MJ finally set her fork down and whispered, “I missed this.”

Peter looked up from his drink.  “Missed what?  Shelly’s cooking?”

MJ hit Peter in the shoulder.  “No, loser.  _This._ Just you and me hanging out like we don’t have a care in the world… like it was before everything happened between us.”

Peter frowned.  He knew what she meant.  There were easier times this year when Peter’s trauma wasn’t so crippling, when MJ didn’t seem to weighed down from facing the reality of her life.  Even last year, Peter and MJ could escape to Central Park, take long walks, smile as though they didn’t have a hard life to return to afterwards.  But now…  “You know, it’s not impossible for us to have those moments again.  It takes time, but there’s always a chance to recover.  Besides, it’s better for us to go through what we did this year then for it to never have happened.”

“I know,” MJ said.  “It just sucks sometimes.”

Peter put his hand on MJ’s.  He gauged her reaction, judged whether or not she was okay with the interaction.  She seemed okay with it.  “If it means anything, I’m always down to get dinner with you.  As long as you’re paying.”

“You’re insufferable,” MJ said, but Peter could tell she appreciated the joke.   

The smile left her face a second later, though, and that worried Peter.  “What are you thinking?” he asked, trying to act nonchalant.

“Sometimes I just forget how amazing you are,” MJ said.  She blushed, and so did Peter.  He wasn’t even sure how to respond, so he just waited for her to say something again.  “I mean, really.  Everything you’ve done for me and everything you do for…” she stopped herself and glanced at the painting.  “ _New York_ ,” she whispered in a low voice, as though there was someone waiting at the stairs listening in to their conversation.  “You went through hell last year all because you were trying to help other people and you can still _smile_.  How do you do that?”

Peter was taken aback to say the least.  “Oh,” he said, setting down his lemonade onto MJ’s bedside table.  He shrugged.  “I don’t know.  I guess I just always had reason to keep going, you know?  No matter how hard times got, no matter how shitty I felt that day, I knew that I had an obligation to New York and to Queens to get out there and help people.  When you have these powers, you have a responsibility to use them for something good.  I knew that, and I wasn’t going to let myself not do that because I was having a bad day.”

“I don’t think I have that kind of mindset,” MJ said.

“I didn’t always have that mindset,” Peter admitted.  “But I’m sure you will.”

She nodded and, judging by her facial expression, it seemed like she believed him.  “I’m scared of what future holds for me.  I’m scared that CPS might screw us over and Kevin has to go back to my dad.  I’m scared that what I went through will always hold me back from achieving greatness.”

“Trauma will hurt, but it doesn’t make a person weaker,” Peter said, firmly, “It makes them stronger, if anything.  It shows that you can go through a lot of shit and come out as a better person.”

MJ stared at Peter for a long second before she leaned forward to kiss his cheek.  “You don’t know how lucky I am to have you.”

“You don’t know how lucky I am to have you,” Peter whispered.  He pulled away only slightly, making sure to keep his eyes on MJ.  “What’s going on with us right now?” 

She shrugged.  “I don’t really know.”  She pulled away, too.  “Do you want to see something?”

“Sure,” Peter whispered, still breathless and still distracted with what just happened.

MJ got up from her bed and went to her closet.  She rummaged through the contents inside before pulling out what looked like a tattered teddy bear.  The second Peter saw it, he knew that he recognized it and he knew what he recognized it from.  Peter sat up from her bed.  “Is that the… the teddy bear from your paintings?  The one at the art show last year?”  Peter didn’t need MJ to answer the question because he knew it _was_ the same teddy bear with the patched up legs and button-eyes from those paintings.  The one that the hand was grasping.  And slumping over on the comforter.  He remembered the paintings so vividly.

“Yeah.  I’ve kept with me all these years,” MJ said.  She handed the teddy bear to Peter.  “It’s a little beat up but…”

“Why was it so important to you?” Peter asked.  He ran the fabric of the teddy bear through his fingers, admiring the stuffed animal while being extra careful not to ruin it. 

MJ stared fondly at the teddy bear, smiling.  “My mom gave it to me when I was four.  It’s a little beat up but it’s one of the only things I have left of her.  Anytime my dad would… the bear got me through a lot of hard times.  Gave me a lot of inspiration.”  It didn’t seem like she was about to start crying, but there was a heavy look on her eyes.  “You’re the only person I’ve ever showed this to… my dad thought I threw it out after my mom died.”

Peter handed the teddy bear back to MJ as the weight of what she said sunk in.  “Thank you for showing it to me.”

MJ grinned, the smile on her face saying it all.  “I’m glad there’s someone I can tell.”

Peter and MJ were planning on staying up her bedroom the entire party until Shelly, Tony and May finally demanded that they come downstairs and socialize.  It was nice, though, meeting everyone that really _did_ care about MJ and Kevin’s well-being.  But the party eventually died, and May, Tony and Peter were on their way.

Then, the weekend was over and it was Monday, the day before Peter’s return to Midtown.  Peter was standing in the middle of his bedroom.  Stacked on his desk were his new textbooks, class schedule and school supplies and beside that was the gray t-shirt and jeans May picked out for his first day of school tomorrow.  Peter had mixed feelings about his junior year; he really enjoyed the freedom of summer, of course.  He and Ned have hung out practically every day and Peter had gone on his fair share of adventures.  The thought of being stuck at school eight hours a day five days a week until June _did not_ sound appealing.  But, on the other hand, Peter was excited to see some of the friends he hadn’t seen that much over the summer.  And for his junior-year decathlon season.  Peter and MJ were supposed to be captains again and the only senior they were supposed to lose last year was Liz so Peter assumed that the team was going to be just as strong.  He was getting ahead of himself, though.  That was tomorrow.  Peter still needed to get through today.            

Peter glanced at his cell phone to see that May and Tony were blowing up his notifications.  << _Peter, I’m here. >>  <<Peter, we’re waiting.>>  <<You have one minute to get to the car.>>_

“Shit,” Peter muttered, nearly tripping over his desk as he got his shoes on and ran out of his bedroom in the same motion. 

Peter, May and Tony were going to Dr. Strange’s place.  Peter’s anxiety and PTSD has been doing better.  Peter’s outlook on Uncle Ben’s death and the way Peter processes some of the chaos that he experiences in everyday has definitely changed.  In such a short amount of time, Peter has learned _healthy_ coping mechanisms, and that includes talking to May and Tony.  Keeping what he was feeling inside, trying to juggle the stress of being Spider-Man all by himself wasn’t necessary, nor was it healthy.  Peter understood that now.  He hadn’t had a serious panic attack since the time MJ had disappeared.  The nightmares were few and far between, too.  Claiming that he’s made a full recovery didn’t seem completely accurate, but Peter knew he was getting there. 

“I’m coming!  I’m coming!” Peter shouted once he got out of his apartment and saw that May and Tony were, sure enough, waiting in May’s CRV (Peter wasn’t even sure how May had managed to beat Peter to the car).

May and Tony dropped Peter off by the doorstep of Dr. Strange’s place — they almost never waited around anymore since they didn’t think Peter needed it.  Peter met Dr. Strange on the second floor, where they sat a couple chairs apart from each other.  Even though Peter has been recovering pretty well, there was still plenty for them to talk about.  Not to mention, for someone who was a neurosurgeon, Dr. Strange had plenty of good advice on how Peter should handle what was going on with MJ.  Sometimes on good days, like Peter suspected today would be, he would just talk about things he did during the week or things he was looking forward to.

“You seem to be in a good mood for someone who has to go to school tomorrow,” Dr. Strange noted. 

Peter grinned.  “I’m surprisingly looking forward to next year.  It’s a fresh start.”

“Are you nervous at all?”

“A little,” Peter said.  “But, it’s more first day jitters than anything else.  I haven’t felt _nervous_ the way that I think you’re implying in a while.”  That was a fact, too.  After everything that’s happened, Peter’s started to get a grip on his perspectives.  Things like a missed homework assignment or a new teacher that might not like Peter didn’t seem like all that big of a deal in the grand scale of things.  It really wasn’t anything that Peter couldn’t handle, or that people couldn’t _help_ Peter handle. 

Dr. Strange smiled.  “I’m not implying anything.  How was the housewarming party?  Did you get to see MJ?”

“Yeah,” Peter said, the smile on his face getting more and more prominent.  “She’s doing good.”  Peter quickly dived into the story about what happened with MJ and Peter up in her room.  “So, what do you think it means?  Do you think she…”

“I’m not one to be giving out relationship advice to a teenager, Peter,” Dr. Strange interrupted with a frown.    “But if I were that kind of a person, I would say that’s a good sign.”

Peter grinned.  He put the conversation on hold as he looked outside of Dr. Strange’s window to admire the view.  Peter was always so on edge whenever he came here — there was always bad news to be brought up or something that was really bothering Peter — that he’d taken the chance to appreciate how beautiful this place really was.  The vast, blue sky and the stunning skyscrapers that gleamed under the sunlight.  Peter wasn’t sure how he hadn’t ever notice it before.  Perhaps this was what the world around him looked like all that time, but Peter had just been so caught up with all this terrible stuff happening that he never had the chance to really appreciate it.  There were so many things that Peter hadn’t appreciated before, but will now. 

“You seem distracted,” Dr. Strange concluded.

Peter shrugged.  “Just happy.  And excited.  For a lot of things.”

“And when was the last time you’ve felt like this?”

“It’s been a while,” Peter said.  “But I don’t think I ever want to forget this feeling.”

“That’s good.  That gives you something to strive toward every day,” Dr. Strange said.  He clasped his hands, looking onward at Peter with a smug grin.  “And if the stress of junior year and balancing your responsibilities gets to be too much, what do you plan on doing then?”

During his sophomore year, just thinking about everything Peter had to manage was crippling enough.  Now, responsibilities piled on responsibilities was still stressful, but it was manageable.  “Know my limits, but also not be afraid to push myself.  And if it gets to be too much, there are always people out there who are willing to help me.”

“Like?”

“Like Mr. Harrington, the decathlon team, Ned, MJ, May, Tony… hopefully, you,” Peter added.  He was half-joking, half-being serious because they hadn’t really discussed whether they would continue these sessions once his junior year started.  It may have seemed like Peter didn’t _need_ this anymore, like it was a part of Peter’s life that was important and necessary and _helpful_ , but Peter had grown.  He was ready to move on.  But still… he isn’t sure what could happen his junior year.

“I’m always here if you ever need me,” Dr. Strange said.  “But no more asking for girlfriend advice.  I think Tony can help you just fine with that.”

Peter grinned.  “Yeah, I’m sure he’d be thrilled about that.”

Dr. Strange returned the smile.  “Are you sleeping alright?  Have you had anymore nightmares recently?”

Peter shook his head.  “I’ve been good.  I had a nightmare a few days ago, but it was nothing.  I woke up and I was little scared but I knew it wasn’t real.  It was nothing like what I’ve had before.”

“And if you do have a nightmare like what you experienced at the Avengers’ Compound in December?” Dr. Strange asked.  Peter had completely forgotten about that night when Tony had invited Peter over and Peter had a meltdown in the middle of the night.  “What do you plan on doing then?”

“There are people who can help me,” he said again.  “I’m never alone.”

Peter had never seen Dr. Strange look so _proud._

Their session didn’t last much longer after that.  There really wasn’t much else to talk about after all.  Peter wasn’t planning on coming back to Dr. Strange’s place for the next year.  Maybe the week after, or maybe in a few weeks.  It was always an option that was open to Peter, and he would take it if needed.  He waited for Tony and May to pick him up as he waited outside, enjoying the sun and the breeze.  It was around dinnertime so May invited Tony to dinner back at their apartment, which Tony gladly accepted. 

“How’d it go?” Tony asked as he and Peter settled onto the couches in Peter and May’s living room. 

“Good,” Peter said.  “Really good.”  

Tony glanced at May before leaning in close and whispering, “I was thinking when you go on your rounds tomorrow night, maybe you and I can go together.  You can show me how Spider-Man takes care of business.”

Peter grinned.  “Yeah!  That sounds great!”

“But only if you have enough time to finish your homework,” Tony added with a wink.

Peter sighed.  “I’m hoping I won’t have homework tomorrow since it’s the first day of school, but it’ll have to be after decathlon practice.”

“Your season is already starting?” Tony said with raised eyebrows.

“It’s just a short meeting to talk about freshman or other people we might want to recruit,” Peter said.  “Come on.  We’re two-time national champions.  What do you expect?” 

* * *

Peter woke up excited for junior year.  It was a chance to forge new memories and create new friendships while embracing and strengthen old ones.  More honestly, though, Peter was just _really_ excited to show up to Midtown in his new Audi and see Flash’s face.  Perhaps the two of them had buried the hatchet during Peter’s sophomore year, but that didn’t mean their rivalry was going to go away anytime soon.  Peter hurriedly got dressed, rushed through his breakfast and was about to run out of the door (he was going to pick up Ned and Peter _really_ didn’t want to be let on his first day of junior year) when he stopped and turned back to May.  She was filling her thermos up with coffee and was about ready to go to work.

“Is everything alright?” May asked with raised eyebrows.

Peter nodded.  “Yeah.  I love you, May.  I don’t think I saw that enough.”  He really didn’t.  May had sacrificed _so_ much for Peter.  The responsibility she signed on for when she took Peter in was something for which Peter would always be grateful.  She endures everything that taking care of Peter entails with unconditional love.  Without her, Peter couldn’t even imagine what his life would be like now.  What his _future_ would be like.

She smiled.  “Did you hit your head last night?  Are you okay?”

“I try to be nice…” Peter started with a laugh.

“I’m kidding!  I’m kidding!  Come here,” May said.  She set her thermos down, took Peter into her arms and kissed his forehead.  “I love you too, kid.  Have a good day at school.  Try not to lose your backpack.  And don’t get detention!  And don’t crash your new car!” she yelled as Peter went out the door.   

Peter was smiling the entire drive to Ned’s house, smiled even wider as Ned freaked out at the sight of the Audi parked in front of his house and kept smiling the entire way to school.  Peter got a great parking spot near the front of the school.  He walked in confidently, not because he was the popular kid who turned heads every time he walked through the halls.  Not because Peter was riding high after a good night of Spider-Man (it was a good night last night, though, but that wasn’t important).  It was because Peter was finally okay with being _Peter Parker_.  The nerdy kid who sat in the front of the classroom and answered all the questions.  Who got the best grades on tests.  Who loved being on the Decathlon team.  That’s who he was.  Baggage and all.  There was no need for Peter to be someone else.

He had friends in all his classes.  He was excited for his new subjects.  And his teachers weren’t giving him a hard time — well, they did, but they were joking.  After all, when was the last time Peter showed up on time for anything?  At lunch, Peter and Ned talked about their classes, found their group of friends and made their way to their table where MJ was already waiting.  She sat next to him, so close that their knees were pressed up against the other person’s.  And she was a bag full of lunch.  Maybe that didn’t seem like a big deal, but Peter had slowly started realizing that all those little things he noticed but didn’t think about — the fact that she didn’t have a coat, never seemed to have lunch, always had to walk places — was because of her father.  That didn’t matter anymore, though.  It was the past.  They would learn from it, grow from it but they weren’t going to continue to live in it. 

It was a _new year._

MJ, Peter, Flash, Gwen and Ned all had AP Chemistry together for their last period of the day.  Even though Gwen and Flash sat with all the other popular kids, they smiled and waved.  “Can’t wait to kick your ass at all the tests in this class, Parker,” Flash said with a grin.

Peter rolled his eyes and settled into his seat.  “You wish, Flash.”

“Let’s face.  I’m beating all of you losers,” MJ said. 

Hearing MJ joke around was new, too.  It was amazing what a few months of separation from her father and what all those recovery programs had done for MJ.  She smiled more.  Willingly raised her hand today in class to share her opinions and answers, which were naturally all right.  She wasn’t afraid to _use_ her voice anymore.  Seeing her at the Decathlon meeting, it was even more noticeable.  She was vocal, confident, upfront but also enthusiastic and passionate all at the same time.

There wasn’t much to talk about that meeting.  It was supposed to be informal.  Checking to see who would all be returning to the team next year (it was everyone) and seeing what kind of recommendations there were for MJ and Peter to invite to the team.  They only wanted a couple more students since there weren’t many spots left.  Flash and Gwen had the most recommendations, not surprising since they’re popular and they already know some of the underclassmen.  And Mr. Harrington had a few students in mind.  There were plenty of students for Peter and MJ to talk to, so they called it a day.

“Thanks for coming,” Peter said.  “I’m sure you guys had other plans, but I really appreciate you doing this and putting effort in to the team this year.”

“And we better win nationals both times again,” Flash said.  “I need to do some _serious_ résumé padding this year for college apps.”

“Hate to say this,” MJ said with a frown, “but I have to agree with Flash on that one.”

The team laughed.  Peter took in their smiles one last time as they started to pack up to leave.  Abraham.  Gwen.  Betty.  Cindy.  Sally.  He missed seeing all of them over the summer and he couldn’t wait for competition season this year, either.

“Are we hanging out tonight?” Ned asked.

Peter nodded.  “Of course, dude.  I’ll text you whenever I’m ready.  And we have to hang out tomorrow after school, too!”  Peter leaned over and whispered into Ned’s ear, “Tony and I are going on rounds together tonight.”

“ _No way!_ You have to tell me everything tomorrow,” Ned exclaimed before hurrying outside.  Peter smiled.  It really was nice having the guy in the chair out there to keep watch over him through thick and thin and through every stupid thing Peter is bound to do in the future.  

All that was left from their meeting was MJ and Peter.  They cleaned up the room a little by making sure that the chairs were pushed, that no trash was left behind.  When they were finished, MJ glanced at the sign-in sheet before putting into her new binder labeled _‘Academic Decathlon 2016-2017’._ She had a huge smile on her face and Peter understood why.  This year alone there would be two national competitions, two regional competitions and the same group of people — _friends_ — coming together for another amazing season.  The thought of being captain again for his junior year excited Peter just as much as he assumed it excited MJ.  “Ready to take names this year again?” Peter asked.

MJ grinned.  “As ready as I’ll ever be.”  She went back to packing her backpack. 

“What are you doing tonight?” Peter asked when they were finished collecting their belongings.

“I’m not sure.” She glanced at the windows.  “It’s a pretty nice day outside so maybe I’ll go out on the awning or something.  Read a book or a paint.  Why?”

Peter hesitated for a second.  Would he be overstepping his boundaries?  Or could he play it off as more of a friend thing?  “I was thinking you and I could get dinner.  Maybe at the Mexican place we went to at the beginning of the year?”

MJ’s eyes lit up, which Peter took us a great sign.  “Yeah.  Let me text Shelly and make sure we don’t have dinner plans.”  She took her phone out and sent her aunt a text.  Shelly must have responded quickly because MJ said a second later, “We’re all set.  Are we walking or driving?”

“Let’s walk,” Peter said, holding the door to the hallway open for MJ.  “Like you said, it’s nice outside.”

And it really was.  The sun was shining down on Peter and MJ.  The wind was just light enough to give a slight, cooling breeze.  It was so relaxing that they decided to eat outside.  They settled onto their chairs outside of the restaurant, taking in their surroundings as they quietly ate their food, a burrito for Peter and an enchilada for MJ.

Peter glanced MJ.  “Do you remember the last time we came here?”

MJ nodded.  “Yeah,” she muttered. It surely felt like so much had happened — the mission at Grand South-Leeds, to the panic attacks, the dance, the whole mess with MJ and her father — that Peter and MJ coming here after their first captain’s meeting seemed like a lifetime ago.  “Can’t believe it’s been five months since you and I have been together.”

Peter turned to look at MJ.  He wasn’t sure how to respond to that.  “Uh, I guess that’s true.”

She met his eyes, and it seemed like she was conflicted and confused and—  “My dad made me break up with you.  He didn’t threaten me or anything.  He didn’t yell.  He was just sitting at the kitchen table and said to me, ‘Michelle, I don’t want you see him anymore.  He’s bad for you.’  And that was it.  When he’s calm like that, I know it’s he’s _really_ angry, like he’s plotting something.  I thought he would try to hurt you.  And, I know you can take care of yourself, but I didn’t want to risk you getting hurt because of me.  I had no choice.” 

There were no tears but Peter could see how much it hurt to talk about her father.  “I’m not mad,” Peter said, quickly.  He wasn’t. 

“I didn’t think you would be,” MJ said.  She hesitated for a second before reaching out and putting her hand on Peter’s hand.  They didn’t say anything else because there really wasn’t much else to say.  She had her past.  Peter had his.

When they were finished eating, Peter threw away their leftover food and they walked back to the Midtown parking lot in comfortable silence, holding hands the entire way.  “I can drive you home if you’d like,” Peter offered when MJ was about to say goodbye.  “New car and everything.  It’s clean, too.”

MJ smiled.  “Okay,” she said.  Peter stood by the passenger side of the car and opened the door for her.  She stopped just a couple of inches from him, gazing into his eyes.  “I missed a lot of great opportunities because of my father, and I don’t want you and me to become one of those.”  She didn’t wait for Peter to respond before she leaned forward to kiss him, slowly, gently.  He let himself enjoy the kiss, as brief as it was.  She pulled away slowly, not breaking eye contact with him.  “Is this okay?”

Peter nodded, still distracted by what just transpired.  _Absolutely.  I’ve dreamed of this moment._ “Yeah.  Are you okay?” he added.

She nodded.  “Think so.”  She got into the passenger seat of Tony’s new car, and it seemed as though she was trying to hide a smile.  “Get in, Parker.  Shelly wants me home soon.”

“Tell her we’re on our way,” Peter said.  Even though May would freak out by his ‘bad driving habits’, Peter kept one hand on the steering wheel and kept the other than resting on MJ’s hand the entire way to MJ’s apartment.  They were together. And as of _right now,_ they were content. 

The euphoria lasted all the way to rounds that night.  Tony and Peter were supposed to rendezvous in downtown Queens, which was good thinking because Peter knew how much attention they would have received if Iron-Man showed up outside of Peter’s apartment.  Peter looked at himself in his mirror, dressed in the Iron-Spider suit.  He worked out over the summer (beyond just catching bad guys).  He put on a little bit more muscle, grew his hair out a little.  Peter had to admit that he felt and looked more like an adult, seemed happier and more put together compared to his sophomore year.  And beyond his actual physical appearance, Peter put a lot of work into honing his abilities over the summer, too.  He got better at swinging from building to building, perfected new moves, learned new forms of martial arts so that Peter could be just as equipped as _Peter Parker_ , not as Spider-Man who could hide behind the gizmos of his suit. 

This was how Peter envisioned Spider-Man to be.

“You’re going to be late if you don’t hurry up, Peter,” Karen warned.  “And you know how much Tony hates it when you’re late.”

Peter grinned as he slipped the mask on.  “Isn’t Tony always late himself?” 

He pushed the window to his bedroom open to give himself just enough room to go soaring out of his bedroom.  Perhaps Peter was showing off a little bit, but he swung through the open air of the streets, taking in the surroundings, enjoying the wind against his face.  Going on rounds didn’t feel like an obligation that Peter dreaded.   Rounds were quick, easy and something that Peter looked forward to.  He felt at home when he put the Iron-Spider suit on.  This was the sort of rush of excitement Peter felt when he first became Spider-Man.  Don’t get him wrong.  He was still worried about getting shot and people finding out his identity.  Peter wasn’t careless by any means like he had been his freshman year, but he didn’t let his fear stop him.  If anything, Peter thrived off his fear.  Maybe that sounds weird, but he’s been improving and he isn’t letting his anxiety hinder him anymore.

“There you are,” Tony said as Peter flung himself onto an edge of high-rise building.  Tony was hovering over the ledge, staring at the ground below.  He must have been in a new Iron-Man suit because Peter didn’t recognize the hints of gold, which stood out against the bold red.  “How was your first day of school?  You actually went, right?”

“Yes, _dad,”_ Peter muttered, sarcastically.  But then he smiled.  “It was good.  I’m excited for junior year.”

“Wow.  Never thought I’d hear you say you’re excited for school.”

“Ha-ha,” Peter said.  “MJ and I got back together.”

It wasn’t like Peter could see Tony’s facial expression, but Peter knew the older man was smiling.  Tony chuckled, “‘Bout time.  May and I had a bet to see when it would happen.”

“Who won?”

Tony sighed.  “I said it would be by the second week of school.  She said after the first day.”

Peter grinned.  He turned to the streets.  “What are we doing today?”

“Friday says there’s a robbery on 1st at Springfield Park.  What do you say, kid?” Tony offered.  “Should we foil the bad guy’s plan?”

“It’s my favorite pastime,” Peter said.  “Let’s go.”

“You lead,” Tony said.  “I’ll follow.”

That was enough of a signal for Peter.  He flung a web to the building across the street, kicked off and flew down the street; behind him, Peter could hear the sound of Iron-Man on his tail.  Peter didn’t look behind him as he raced toward Springfield Park.  He knew Tony would always be there.  Instead, Peter let himself live in the now, appreciate Queens, breathe in the fresh air all the while smiling like he’s never been happier. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that's it. Thank you so much to everyone who read and supported this story. I am very grateful for everyone who has commented and expressed their excitement for this story. I truly hope that you liked the ending, and I was so happy to be FINALLY be able to write happy endings for these characters :)


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